


Who’d Have Thought That A Heartbreak Could Ever Lead Me To You?

by heartlikethat



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, But Also I’m Going To Avoid The More Cringeworthy Plot Lines & Do What I Want, Does This Seem Like The Plot of Forgetting Sarah Marshall? (Because It Is), Drama, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28839423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartlikethat/pseuds/heartlikethat
Summary: Following a devastating breakup, feeling alone and uncertain about what the future holds, Max decides a trip to Hawaii is the key to mending his broken heart and figuring out what happens next for him. However, when he discovers his ex and her new boyfriend are staying at the same resort, he’s not sure how anythinggoodcould possibly come out of the whole experience.But then he meets Zoey Clarke.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 43
Kudos: 34





	1. The One Where Max Gets Dumped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgetting Sarah Marshall was on TV and apparently that was all it took for me to be inspired to write this. Also, I’m just like, laughing at myself for thinking I’d actually take a break from writing while the second season airs. My brain literally _will not chill_.

At the age of thirty-one, Max thought that his life would be a bit more _cohesive_ by now. A steady job, a wife, maybe a kid or two, a house with the white picket fence. All bundled together and tied up with a neat little bow that would finally earn him that big, shiny stamp of approval from his father that he so inherently craved. Just something to let him know that Alan Richman didn’t think his son had completely squandered his life by fleeing to San Francisco and not joining the family dentistry business.

However, as it were, Max was currently unemployed, having been (unfairly, in his humble opinion) fired from his position as manager of the sixth floor at SPRQ Point over two months ago when one of his programmers ( _Marcus_ , he thought ruefully) was caught leaking code to another tech company, the duplicity unbeknownst to Max. Which, he begrudgingly conceded, shame on him for not being _aware_ that it was happening right under his nose, but did he really deserve to be _terminated_ because of it?

And as for his search for a new job? Prospects were not looking too _promising_ on that front at the given moment. Which explained why he was donned in yesterday’s sweats, eating a _disgustingly absurd_ amount of cereal (a medley comprised of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Cookie Crisp, and Apple Jacks) out of an exorbitantly large, patterned ceramic salad bowl while he sunk into the couch, inviting the cushions to just swallow him up already.

Empty beer bottles and half-eaten (but by now, _fully stale_ ) bags of chips littered the glass coffee table, the clear surface marred by amber stains, streaks of grease, and a decent smattering of despair and self-pity.

Max had just taken a colossal bite of cereal, his gaze fixed mindlessly on the television screen, when his phone began buzzing. Startled, he jerked upright, sloshing milk all over his lap, cursing out loud as he bent forward to snatch up his phone so he could answer the call.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted his girlfriend around a mouthful of food, happiness infused in his tone and ballooning inside his chest as it had been a few days since they last spoke. With her being a flight attendant that worked long-haul, international flights, it made it nearly impossible for them to keep in consistent contact while she was away on a trip.

He hastily gulped down his food, listening to her familiar, upbeat voice as she apologized for interrupting him and then asked, “Are you eating that shrimp and cauliflower bake I put in the freezer before I left?”

Max faltered, the spoon slipping through his fingers and falling into the bowl, instantly submerged in the now soggy concoction.

“Oh, uh, _no_...although I _did_ eat that, the other night, and it was absolutely _delicious_ , by the way.”

He cringed and made a mental note to heat that up for dinner so he wouldn’t find himself trapped in a lie when she returned home tomorrow, even if the mere thought of her casserole made his insides churn and want to preemptively toss the contents of his stomach.

“But right now I-I’m eating a...s-salad,” he sputtered without thinking. He _was_ eating from a salad bowl, so maybe it didn’t _technically count as a lie?_ he reasoned with himself, and then wondered why he was even lying to his girlfriend in the first place. 

Eating cereal was a _perfectly fine_ thing to do at two-thirty in the afternoon on a Thursday when your entire life was in shambles.

And so what if he was _temporarily_ feeling a little lost and uncertain about the future? The keyword there was _temporary_. This was all just a phase that would eventually come to pass, even though his savings were dwindling faster than he could blink and he didn’t know when he’d see another paycheck.

But one thing he did have? His warm, loving, free-spirited girlfriend of the last five years — Autumn.

While they hadn’t made a formal or legally binding commitment to one another, Autumn always quick to dance a wide berth around the subject of marriage, they had shared five years of bliss together. Five, substantial years encased in a steady relationship where the two of them had built a solid foundation that when ( _if?_ ) they ever decided to take that next step, it was sure to be a seamless transition.

Speaking of Autumn, Max felt his heart stutter to a halt when she announced the last turn of her trip had gotten canceled, so she _wouldn’t_ , in fact, be overnighting in Belize and she was currently ten minutes out from their apartment and she’d see him soon.

Springing up from the couch, he rushed to retrieve the waste bin and went to work cleaning up a week’s worth of mess, limbs flailing so rapidly he felt like The Flash, just an indistinguishable blur whizzing about the space, first picking up trash and then collecting dirty clothes, all of which he forcefully crammed in the washer. 

Once the apartment looked presentable enough, he then hastened to make himself look moderately decent, swiping a wet washcloth under each armpit before smearing on a thick layer of deodorant and attempting to smooth down his rampant curls.

Shrugging one shoulder, he gave his reflection a curt nod, exiting the bathroom and dashing across the hall into the bedroom. He stripped out of his sweats, pulled on a pair of jeans and tugged a lightweight, navy sweater over his head.

His transformation from _Sad, Rumpled, Trash Man_ to _Still Sad, But At Least Now He Looked Like A Semi-Functioning Member Of Society_ was complete.

Just in time for him to hear a key fitting into the lock, the door swinging open to reveal Autumn in her royal blue uniform, blonde hair fastened back into a sleek ponytail, and her lips painted a vibrant red.

Crossing the room with a broad smile on his face, he gathered her in his arms and pressed a firm, affectionate kiss into her hair. “I missed you,” he murmured, feeling her body stiffen before she tentatively returned the hug, her hand giving a few soft pats on his back before extracting herself from the embrace.

As he glanced down at her, he was blindsided by dread sweeping in and settling in his chest at the contrite look on her face, doubling in intensity when she skirted around him and gingerly lowered herself on the couch, folding her hands neatly across her lap.

“Max, as you know...I love you,” she spoke purposely, her tone carefully measured. “Very much.”

_Uh oh._

“Are you breaking up with me?” he blurted out, searching her face and immediately finding the answer when she expelled a soft sigh and cast her gaze down at the floor.

“I feel...” she paused, straightening her spine and catching his eye, “I’ve _been_ feeling, for a long time, really, that we’re growing apart. That we’re each journeying down a separate path now...”

A stretch of silence passed.

“Who is it?” The accusation had the audacity to just soar right on out of his mouth, without even bothering to ask his brain for permission first.

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to relax and suck in some deep, steadying breaths, feeling like a **_Max_** imum A-hole for jumping to the conclusion that she must be cheating on him.

“What? No! That’s not what this is about.” Autumn briskly shook her head from side-to-side. “There’s no one else,” she assured him, but the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes and the fact she was worrying her bottom lip had him wondering if maybe his knee-jerk response had been spot on, after all.

“Just...sit, and we can talk, okay?” she implored, her voice and her eyes going soft when she finally regarded him, taking in his crestfallen appearance.

Dazed, Max began slowly nodding his head and obediently took the spot next to her on the couch, resting his palms on his knees and leaning back as his heart floated forlornly down to the ground.

Tense silence filled the room again.

“I know what’s happening here, I really do,” Max began to ramble in a last-ditch effort to hold tight onto the one remaining constant in his life. “You’ve been working so much lately that we haven’t spent any quality time together and you’re forgetting what it’s like to be with me. But I promise, if you just give me a chance to remind you how great we are—”

“No, I’m afraid that’s not going to work,” Autumn interrupted him. “I’ve already made my decision.” Her tone was gentle, but resolute.

She went back to avoiding his desperate, pleading stare. As if he were Medusa and one look into his eyes would turn her to stone and she’d be stuck right there with him forever.

“I’m sorry, Max.”

Those words, her words, sounded so _final_. And he knew then that they were truly over. Or, at least, Autumn seemed to be truly over him. His own heart, well, he still had to pick that up off the floor. He wanted to ask her, what about the last five years?

Then, Max wondered at what point he had lost her, and how had he not realized it until now? When it was too late? There must have been signs he missed, like the ones that show how many miles until the next city, except in this case, the sign would have depicted the time remaining on their relationship. ‘44 days until you reach Dumptown’ and now that he had arrived at his destination, he glanced around and saw the population was a lonely (1) Maxwell Richman.

“Since the lease for the apartment is in my name, you’re going to need to be the one to move out. I’m gonna stay with a friend, for a couple of days. Give you the time and space to pack up your stuff, find somewhere to go...” she trailed off before standing up and shifting on her feet, awkwardly chafing her arms.

After a few more moments of strained silence elapsed, Max heaved himself off the couch and followed her over toward the exit. Each step he took felt automated, like he wasn’t a willing participant in the movement of his own body.

They stopped near the door, turning to face one another to say their goodbyes, but Max couldn’t form any words around the knot in his throat. Instead, he tried to convey every thought, every emotion, every cherished memory they shared with one meaningful look, despite how numb he currently felt inside.

When Autumn opened her mouth to speak, the words that came forth gutted him, effectively carving out his chest and rendering him an empty shell.

“There _is_ someone else,” she admitted quietly, apologetically. Her face was the very picture of remorse as she pivoted on her feet and walked her way right out of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel it’s important to note that I have zero intention of villainizing Autumn in this fic moving forward. And I rated it mature to be safe, but this will definitely be a lot tamer (more tame?) than the movie lol.


	2. The One Where A Cute Stranger Does Max A Solid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic, Max and Tobin are the only ones who work (or _worked_ , in Max’s case) at SPRQ Point.

A pillow clobbering him in the face is how Max greeted the day some several weeks later.

He sleepily grumbled a few choice words before slinging an arm across his face and burrowing himself deeper into the couch, determined to avoid reality for as long as possible.

The pillow pelted him again, accompanied by a loudly exclaimed, “Enough!”

Begrudgingly, he lifted his arm away from his face and shot a bleary-eyed glare at his friend, Mo, who was still wielding the pillow and looked poised to deliver him another blow.

“Hey,” Max huffed in annoyance, “what was that for?”

“You’ve been moping around my apartment for _weeks_ now and your whole ‘woe is me’, sad boy persona does not fit the vibe I’ve spent years cultivating.”

Max struggled into a sitting position, dragging his hands down his face before propping his head up with two fists tucked beneath his chin. “I thought I was going to be fine, Mo, but I’m not. I’m not fine at all,” he confessed miserably. “Everywhere I go, I’m reminded of her. _Every little thing_ reminds me of her.”

Tossing the pillow onto an accent chair, Mo jutted a finger at him. “I don’t mean to be harsh, but you need to _move on already_. I get that it’s only been three weeks since the breakup, but we both know you pressed pause on your life the day you got fired. You need to get back out there and just... _do something_. Because hiding yourself away for months is not healthy.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted, to which Mo immediately followed up with, “I am.”

“How are you always so upbeat and positive?” Max inquired, directing his attention on Mo, hoping for some simple answer that he could apply to his own life that would magically solve all his problems.

“Because I make a choice to be happy.”

Max pressed his lips together, not _exactly_ the wisdom he had been wanting or expecting to hear, but he’d try anything at this point to feel even an inkling of joy. Squaring his shoulders, he inhaled a deep breath and then declared, “I _choose_ to be happy.” He paused, ran a quick assessment of himself, and then sagged in defeat when his heart was still shrouded in sadness. “It didn’t work.”

Mo threw him an exasperated look. “Stand up,” he commanded, staring expectantly at Max until he scrambled to his feet. “Now, shake it off. Really let yourself go, release all that bad energy.” Mo gave a demonstrative shimmy before gesturing for Max to do the same.

Sighing in resignation, he obeyed, jerking his body around halfheartedly, feeling more than a little ridiculous.

“That was pathetic. Try it again. Fully commit this time.”

Dropping his arms so they fell limply at his sides, Max squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, picturing Autumn, his father, Ava Price nonchalantly informing him that his services were no longer required at SPRQ Point.

His life seemed to be marked by loss and disappointment, meeting him at every turn. Like losing his job soon after he was promoted to manager, right when he _finally_ felt like he had found his calling after years of just coasting along at work. Not to mention the absence of a close connection with his father, which Max wanted but would never have, all because he chose to forge his own path and identity. And of course, most recently, Autumn ending their longterm relationship as if it meant nothing, as if _he meant nothing_.

That fleeting thought, of meaning nothing, of not being enough for her to stay, for anyone in his life to stay, pierced him in a way that caused the fortified walls surrounding his heart to crack. It was _too much_. All the anger and hurt he had been carrying around welled inside his chest, spreading like wildfire until a scream erupted from Max’s throat, his head thrown back as he unleashed years of pent up emotions.

He screamed until his throat was raw and aching and the heaviness in his chest had lightened, just a smidge, but it was a start. Panting from exertion, his arms and hands trembling, he glanced over at Mo, a shadow of a smile flickering across his face.

“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I told you to let yourself go, but hey, that’ll do,” Mo nodded in approval. “Now, what you need next,” he clapped his hands together in excitement and pointed them at Max, “is a vacation. To relax and get yourself centered, figure out what you wanna do next.”

Tilting his head, Max mulled over the idea. While his savings were depleting, he still had a substantial amount left, definitely enough to take a nice vacation and find a new apartment when he got back. Plus, there was also the Autumn Engagement Ring Fund he could dip into, which he clearly no longer needed for that particular purpose. That was enough for him to take a _very nice_ vacation. As he considered it, he began bobbing his head in agreement. He really _could_ use some time away from San Francisco, where Autumn’s presence lingered in every coffee shop, every park bench, down every street. She seemed to touch every inch of the city.

“You know, Autumn did always mention this one resort in Hawaii she wanted to stay at.”

“ _Oh Maxwell no_ ,” Mo said in a pitying tone, disapproval written on his face.

“What?” Max asked defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t go to Hawaii just because _Autumn’s_ heard of Hawaii? Everyone has heard of Hawaii, it’s a beautiful place!”

Mo backed down and held up his hands in surrender. “You know what? Go to Hawaii! _Go_. Do it. Book it right now, before I smack you with that pillow again.”

* * *

As his shuttle pulled up to Turtle Bay Resort, Max was feeling _pretty dang good_. Still a little buzzed from the cocktails he consumed during his flight to Oahu, he opened the door and was immediately greeted by a woman with a warm, welcoming smile placing a rainbow lei around his neck.

“Aloha, check in this way.” She gestured through a set of glass doors. Max nodded his thanks, slung his duffel across his shoulder, and made his way inside.

Easily finding the check-in desk, he took his spot in line behind a couple that were fused together at the mouth, their hands roaming feverishly as the front desk agent attempted to wave them forward.

“May I... _help_ you...?” A voice timidly called out, but it was enough to get their attention because the couple broke apart, giggling and smiling as they approached the desk.

“So, just married?” The employee, a woman with vibrant red hair, noted once they were standing in front of her.

“Yeah, how’d you guess?” The husband asked as his wife lovingly stroked his beard before she abruptly yanked him down for another passionate kiss.

“Oh, you’ve just got that magic, newlywed dust all over you,” the woman said brightly, her voice full of false cheer that had Max stifling an amused snort.

Less than a minute later, after the necessary information had been exchanged, the woman slid over a map of the resort and a set of keycards. “Here are your room keys, the elevators are to the left. We hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. and _Mrs._ Haynes,” she placed emphasis on the ‘Mrs.’ which had the wife emitting a squeal of delight.

Max doled out a quick congratulations to the happy couple as they retreated, still draped over one another and stealing a kiss for every single step they took. 

With his eyes following after them, engrossed in their nauseating bliss and only partially aware of the redhead speaking to him, he meandered his way forward, stopping only when he collided with the reservation desk. The impact forced him stagger backward, his hands flailing out to the sides while he struggled to regain his footing.

Heat prickled the back of his neck as he directed his focus on the woman behind the desk, her blue eyes perfectly matching the blue of her herringbone blazer.

For a brief moment, her lips twitched into a smirk before resuming that overly friendly, customer service, plastic smile.

“How may I assist you today, sir?” 

“I’m checking in. My name’s Richman. Uh, Max Richman, that is.”

With a succinct nod, she began typing his name into the computer and he hastened to add, “But, ah, I don’t _technically_ have a reservation. Just kinda thought I’d...take my chances.” He threw her a sheepish look and gave a little shrug, his face still warm from his earlier embarrassment.

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “Oh,” she quietly exhaled before giving him a face that screamed _yikes_ , “Well, we are all booked up, but we do have the Presidential Suite available.”

“Wow, okay. That’s great.” He grinned, clasping his hands together and leaning forward. “And how much is that?”

“Six thousand a night.”

His lips parted in surprise. “Six thousand _dollars?_ ”

“ _Beautiful_ views,” she added, “Truly breathtaking.”

“I can imagine,” he murmured. “That’s a little out of my price range, I’m afraid. Which is a shame, because this place is really—”

Max froze as the sound of laughter echoed throughout the lobby. A soft, familiar, musical laugh that he’d recognize anywhere. Craning his neck, his breath caught in his throat when his gaze immediately landed on Autumn. Right there in Hawaii. Right in front of him. What were the odds of that?

Whipping his head back around, he gripped tightly onto the edge of the desk, his heart rate speeding up as he looked wide-eyed at the tiny woman before him, silently pleading for help.

She cocked her head as she regarded him. “Are you alright?” Concern laced her words and Max vehemently shook his head, releasing a shaky breath.

“No, that’s my ex-girlfriend. We broke up recently, well she broke up with me, and I came here to take my mind off of it, to try and get over her. She didn’t spot me, right?”

“Uh...” The woman looked panic-stricken, her eyes darting between him and something behind him, or rather, _someone_ , he soon realized.

“Max?” He heard Autumn’s voice, soft and inquisitive, and he muttered a curse before he spun around to face her.

“ _Heyyyy_ there, Autumn,” he choked out, his voice betraying him by cranking up a few octaves while he pawed at the back of his neck. “You’re looking...swell.” He cringed, mentally berating himself. _Really, Max? Swell?_

“Did you follow me here?”

“W-what?” he sputtered, “ _No._ Of course not.” He expelled an incredulous laugh, he wasn’t _that_ pathetic. “Just been having a bit of a hard time and thought I could use a vacation and, uh, for reasons unknown, this place kind of popped in my head so...here I am!” He threw his hands in air, an action that had his brain screaming at him to stop. “And here you are, too, apparently, which is _lovely_. Uh, what brings you here?”

Now it was Autumn’s turn to be nervous as she shifted on her feet, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Oh, you know, same as you.” She did a little half shrug. “I just felt like a vacation and I’ve got flight benefits, so, why not use them?”

Max swallowed heavily and nodded his head. “Right, right. Sure, uh...” he trailed off, trying to sort through the complicated mess of emotions currently ransacking his body.

Despite the evident tension present in their encounter, there was a portion of his heart that felt a flicker of hope, like maybe this was fate bringing the two of them together, an opportunity to reconnect in a tropical paradise without the pressures of everyday life impeding their way.

Before he had the chance to give a voice to that thought, someone in a color blocked hoodie swooped into frame, his arm coming to rest comfortably around Autumn’s shoulders. “There you are, babe. Thought I lost you for a hot sec.”

Time screeched to a halt. Or maybe Max had just entered into an alternate reality as he stood there with his mouth gaping open like a fish. The hoodie. The voice. The man in the hoodie with the voice. He felt his stomach bottom out before he began shaking his head in disbelief.

“ _Tobin Batra_ is the someone else you’ve been seeing?”

“Oh shit, dude,” Tobin said at the precise moment the woman behind Max whispered, her voice one of pure awe, “ _He’s a legend in the hacking community_.” If he wasn’t so confounded by the sight before him, he would have been extremely curious to learn how the redhead even knew about Tobin _freakin’_ Batra or what her involvement was in the hacking community.

“Bro, I know what you must be thinking right now, but don’t worry. We didn’t hook up ‘til after she dumped you.”

There was a beat of silence before Max broke it. “Oh yeah,” he replied flippantly, “That makes me feel _great_. Especially since it hasn’t even been a month and you’re here on this...” He gestured wildly between the pair before swinging an arm toward the wall of windows where there was a remarkable view of the ocean, “ _romantic rendezvous_.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sucked in a sharp breath, feeling sick to his stomach as he tried to maintain control over the emotions roiling like a storm inside his gut. “How did you two even happen, anyway?”

Autumn momentarily ducked her head before making eye contact, looking more uncomfortable than he had ever seen her look. “Well...you know I’ve seen Tobin a number of times. At your work holiday parties, the SPRQ Watch launch party, that one karaoke night a few years ago...”

Tobin began nodding enthusiastically and chimed in. “Yeah, and then a couple months ago we ran into each other at Golden Gate Grind, getting that cold brew before work, y’know? And the vibes between us were off the charts!”

Max was rapidly losing his battle of keeping a tight rein on his emotions. Desperate for an escape and at a loss for words, the woman behind the desk came to his rescue. “ _So_ sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Richman? It looks like the Presidential Suite is ready for you now.”

Pivoting to face her, he raised his eyebrows. “It is?” He asked, perplexed, to which she confirmed, “Yep! You’re all set for four nights in our most luxurious suite.” Her eyes communicated with him to ‘play along’ and he poured all the gratitude he could muster into his expression.

“Well, that’s marvelous,” he replied, forcing a believable smile onto his face, aware of the couple behind him watching with interest. 

Soon thereafter, Autumn and Tobin bid him an awkward farewell. Once they were out of earshot, Max turned his attention back on the redhead. “Thanks for saving me, but I really can’t afford that room.”

Bracing her arms on the desk, she leaned forward and spoke in a low, conspiring tone. “Nobody can, it’s for like Oprah or...some other super famous person I can’t name. Really, it’s not a big deal. You can stay in the suite, but since you’re not technically a guest, you have to clean up after yourself. Otherwise, here is your room key and enjoy your stay.” She purposely smacked down a keycard, nodding her head toward it, inviting him to pick it up.

“Why, uh, why’re you doing this for me?”

Her face softened, compassion swimming in her blue eyes, eyes that were quite captivating if Max was being perfectly honest. “I mean, she’s here with some guy already? That’s kind of messed up.”

“Right?” Max exclaimed, relieved that he wasn’t the only one who thought so. “Thank you!”

She gave a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Go! Enjoy yourself!” She nudged the room key toward his hand, her fingertips brushing against his, lingering there a moment before she pulled her hand away.

“Thank you, a thousand times—” He stole a fleeting glance at her name tag, flashing her a bright, grateful smile, “Zoey Clarke.”


	3. The One Where Max Is Still Very, Very Sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Max might sing a song and that song might be “Make You Feel My Love” by Bob Dylan. Also by Adele. Also covered by Skylar Astin, which I’ve linked below for your listening pleasure.
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/tv/B-Zw5TZBeMd/?igshid=7iaylps5i6p5

As Max swung open the door to the Presidential Suite, his jaw dropped to the floor. He wandered awestruck around the massive space, taking in the vaulted ceilings, Brazilian chestnut floors, the fanciest kitchen his eyes had ever beheld, and a bathtub that was the size of a small swimming pool.

However, the sight that captured his attention more than anything, that really _struck a chord_ with him, so to speak, was a sleek white grand piano, situated right in front of the sliding glass doors that opened up to his own private lanai and unobstructed view of the ocean.

It had been _years_ since Max had played, having forgone his creative side right around the time he started school at Stanford, throwing himself fully into his coursework in order to prove to himself (and to his father) that he hadn’t made an irreversible mistake by jetting off and leaving his family three thousand miles behind him.

But now, the piano stood there like a beacon, his fingers itching to run across the ivory and ebony keys, maybe let loose some more bottled up emotions. The whole purpose of the trip was to sort through the chaos that was his life and he clearly still had many feelings that needed to be unpacked.

Instead, he fell heavily onto the plush, turquoise sofa and dialed Mo, promptly dropping the news bomb that was the development and his recent discovery of Autumn and Tobin.

“This is a _disaster_ , an absolute nightmare,” he stated glumly, staring blankly up at the ceiling, his phone on speaker and resting on his chest.

“ _Chill_ , Maximo,” Mo’s voice filled the room, “You know, there are other hotels on the island. Why don’t you just go stay somewhere else?” Max pursed his lips, it was a reasonable suggestion.

He propped his hands behind his head, mashing his jaw back and forth in consideration. “No, I’m not leaving this resort, it’ll look like I’m running away, like I can’t handle seeing them together. And besides, I’m staying here for free.”

“How the hell did you manage that?”

“I think the cute check-in lady felt sorry for me,” he admitted ruefully, barking out a short, bitter laugh.

“Cute, huh?”

“Yeah.” He smiled in spite of himself as he remembered their brief interaction, picturing her vibrant hair and the way her eyes had sparkled with amusement when he crashed into the desk, but was gracious enough not to make a comment. He shook his head, catapulting thoughts of the redhead out of his mind. “How did Autumn move on from me so fast?” he wondered out loud. “I mean, we spent _five years_ together. We were supposed to get married, live happily ever after. Now she’s with _Tobin_.”

Mo let out the most grievous sigh and Max could practically see his friends’ eyes rolling their way into the back of his head. “We’ve been over this, Maxwell. Clearly, you two weren’t on the same page, _at all_. And just because you were together for half a decade, that doesn’t mean you’re _meant to be._ Life isn’t some fairytale and it doesn’t always work out how you envision it in _your_ mind.”

“No kidding,” he lamented and Mo gave another exasperated sigh before muttering that Max was hopeless and ending the call.

“Well, that was _rude_ ,” he griped to the ceiling fan.

* * *

By the time Max ventured out of his room, it was approaching dinner time and he crossed his fingers that there wouldn’t be any unexpected encounters with Autumn. Or Tobin. Or the two of them together as a collective unit. It was a large resort. If he was lucky, he might not even see them again for the rest of his stay.

Walking up to Roy’s Beach House, the host greeted him with a million watt smile, his eyes bordering on crazed. “Hey, hey! How’s it going?” The jovial man, whose name tag indicated him to be George, asked once Max was stood before him.

“Hi,” Max offered a tightlipped smile in return, “I’d just like to grab some dinner, please.”

“Okay great. Is your wife going to meet you? Or your girlfriend?” George craned his neck like a giraffe, head swaying back and forth as he searched behind Max for a person that didn’t exist.

“I don’t, uh, have a girlfriend.”

George’s eyes went wide and he jerked up his hands, palms out. “Oh god, I’m so sorry!” he crooned apologetically in his Olaf from _Frozen_ voice. “Your boyfriend, then?” he asked meaningfully as he shot Max a knowing look.

“Nope.” He forced another tight smile, feeling like his face was about to crack. “Just me.”

That information caused George to seize up before his mouth twisted into a pouty frown as he looked at Max with an exaggerated amount of sorrow in his expression, “Do you want like a magazine or something?” He began leading Max through the restaurant, weaving his way around a sea of happy couples and happy families. “It’s gonna be boring if you’re just sitting there _all by yourself._ ” His voice dropped to a whisper at the last part as they came to a stop at a vacant table.

“I’ll be alright, thanks,” Max gave a curt nod as he took a seat.

“I’d just be like, _so depressed_ if I were you. Anyway, here’s your menu.” George handed over the laminated card, threw him another sad look, and left.

While Max perused the options, his mind wandered. When he was planning the trip, he held no qualms about embarking on a solitary vacation. In fact, he had been _excited_ about the prospect, the opportunity to do a little soul searching and ponder the possibilities of his future, really get his life back on track as he soaked up the sun and beauty of Hawaii.

But as he sat there, the sun slowly drifting to meet the ocean and casting a warm, ethereal glow around him, he once again felt the acute sting of heartache. With the knowledge that Autumn and Tobin were somewhere nearby canoodling, not to mention that the infuriatingly happy newlywed couple from earlier were in his direct line of sight and he was surrounded by families, fathers and sons sharing a companionable meal, Max had never felt more alone.

* * *

The loneliness followed him back to his suite, taking up residence in his chest and Max couldn’t tell if it was trying to devour him whole or claw its way out, shredding him apart in the process. Either way, it was crippling.

Unthinkingly, he planted himself down on the piano bench, fingers hovering and hesitating just a second before he was pouring out his heart with a song.

_When the rain is blowing in your face and the whole world is on your case, I could offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love_

He was more than a little rusty, striking the wrong keys often as his muscle memory faltered, but it felt good, it felt _right_. It was something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until now, the way music could be so freeing and cathartic.

_When the evening shadows and the stars appear and there is no one there to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love_

As he sang, Mo’s words came back to haunt him with a vengeance, that just because he believed Autumn was _The One_ for him, he had no control over her feelings. He couldn’t forcefully project his love onto her and just expect her to love him the same. And obviously, she didn’t reciprocate his feelings because she had broken up with him and was here with another man. It pained him to admit that Autumn and Tobin made a certain kind of sense.

_I know you haven't made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong. I've known it from the moment that we met, no doubt in my mind where you belong_

Yet, he couldn’t stop his own thoughts from spiraling. Did he have some fatal flaw that made him destined to be unloveable? For the rest of his life? How was it that people were able to give him up so easily? What was he doing wrong?

_I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue. I'd go crawling down the avenue. No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do, to make you feel my love_

His throat constricted, making it nearly impossible to keep singing as his vision blurred, trying to navigate his way through the minefield of emotions without self-destructing. 

_The storms are raging on the rolling sea and on the highway of regret. The winds of change are blowing wild and free, you ain't seen nothing like me yet_

Max had no shortage of regrets, especially as they pertained to work. He’d spent much of his time at SPRQ Point doing the bare minimum, just sitting idly by and wasting his potential. Getting the promotion was pure dumb luck, he knew deep down he wasn’t deserving of it, although he tried to make up for it by going full tilt once he had it. And then he’d been fired and instead of doing anything productive, he retreated into himself and wallowed, for months. He was still wallowing now, proving his father right about squandering his life away.

_I could make you happy, make your dreams come true. Nothing that I wouldn't do, go to the ends of the Earth for you, to make you feel my love, to make you feel my love_

His voice cracked and wavered as he finished the song, but his mind kept on going, a steady stream of tumultuous thoughts. The day Autumn ended their relationship, she had mentioned they were journeying down separate paths. If that was the case, where exactly was his path headed? What awaited him?

Just then, the phone in the room started ringing, loud and shrill. He stood up slowly, half dazed, before crossing the room to answer it.

“Hello?” he rasped, voice still tight with hurt and he promptly cleared his throat.

“Hey, Max,” a voice said, one that sounded vaguely familiar. His face screwed up in confusion, he could think of only one person there that would know him by name. “Autumn?”

“Um, no. It’s Zoey. Clarke. From the front desk.”

“Oh,” he exhaled, shaking his head, trying to gain some clarity, but his mind remained muddled even as his bruised heart gave a tiny flutter of anticipation. “Hi.”

“What’s, uh, going on there? I’m getting complaints about someone singing? Not saying the singing is _bad_ , exactly, just like _super_ sad and depressing?”

Max squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to disappear as he ran a hand through his hair. “Huh, that’s... _weird_. You know, I think I heard that person, too. It sounds like it’s coming from the floor above me...” He paused, instantly realizing his mistake. Smacking his palm lightly against his forehead, he grimaced as Zoey said, “There’s no one above you.”

After a long moment of awkward silence, he assured her, “I’ll try to keep it down.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, soft and sympathetic and Max couldn’t stand the pity.

“Mhm, yep.” He nodded rapidly even though she couldn’t see him. “Have a great night!” Hastily, he slammed down the phone, staring at it and wondering how many more times he’d manage to embarrass himself over the duration of his stay.


	4. The One With The Revelations

After hanging up the phone and feeling positively _mortified_ , Max headed down to the hotel bar for a drink. Not because he was hellbent on continuing to wallow in self-pity, but because he was on _vacation_ and he _deserved_ a goddamn drink.

“You know what, I’m on vacation, may I get a piña colada, please?” he asked the bartender once he slid onto the wooden stool, clasping his hands together in front of him.

While the blender whirred to life, drowning out the sound of “Tiny Bubbles” by Don Ho playing through the speakers, a man sidled up beside him, waiting to place a drink order and Max instantly recognized him as the ‘Mister’ of Mr. and Mrs. Haynes.

“Oh hey, where’s your wife?” The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it, but he was somewhat stunned to see the man alone considering every encounter today had been him seeing the two of them attached at the hip (and typically the mouth as well).

A brilliant, blinding smile stretched across the man’s face, one that reached his brown eyes and made them shine. His whole being seemed to radiate happiness and Max yearned to feel such unbridled joy. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing that,” the man said before nodding his head off to the side, toward the glass doors that led to the patio. “Tatiana’s securing us a table outside. I’m Simon, by the way.” 

Shaking the proffered hand, he completed the introductions with a polite smile, “Max.” 

“So, you here by yourself?”

Max’s eyes skittered away and he heaved a small, exhausted sigh, gearing up for another conversation much like the one he had earlier with George the Host. “ _Ye_ -p,” he enunciated with a pop.

“That’s what’s up.” Much to his surprise, there was no hint of pity in Simon’s voice when he spoke, only genuine enthusiasm. “Solo trips are a good reset, a way to cleanse the mind, reconnect with yourself. And you can do _what_ you want, _when_ you want.”

Ducking his head, Max pressed his fingertips together. “Ah, I don’t know.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “I’m starting to think coming here was a mistake.” He glanced over at Simon, trying to decide how much he wanted, or _should_ , reveal to the unsuspecting stranger. But something about the man made him feel like opening up, like he was confiding in an old friend. “My ex-girlfriend is here with my ex-coworker. We broke up three weeks ago.” 

“Oh,” Simon winced, “ _ouch_.”

Max’s mouth contorted into a wry smile. “Exactly. I’d much rather have what you have, but I’m pretty sure I’m destined to be alone.”

A beat of silence passed, Simon began lightly drumming his fingers on the bar top as his face grew contemplative. “Can I share something with you that I think might help?”

Max nodded while the bartender placed his drink in front of him and Simon promptly ordered two of Lei Lei’s signature mai tais before steering his focus back on Max.

“So, it took me a long time to get _here_ ,” Simon jabbed his finger down on the bar, “to this point in my life. I was actually engaged, to someone _else_ , a few years ago. A lovely woman named Jessica,” he admitted and Max raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

“But some things happened, I lost someone I cared about, I lost the _joy._ Jessica, she tried to help me, even though she didn’t really understand what I was going through. It took us awhile to finally accept that we just weren’t _right_ together. One night, we sat down and we agreed that we wanted each other to be... _happier_ , you know? And the only way for that to happen was to go our separate ways.”

Plucking the tiny purple umbrella from his drink, Max twirled it between his thumb and forefinger, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip as Simon cupped a hand on his shoulder, a small, but significant gesture that gave him a surge of comforting warmth.

“Look, right now you’ve got this hole in your heart that you just can’t fill and I understand that. But you’ll find that joy again one day, I promise you will. When you least expect it, that special person will come into your life and it will all just—” his gaze wandered, peering out beyond the windows and landing on Tatiana as a smile split across his face once more, “ _make sense_.”

After giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Simon grabbed the drinks and excused himself, leaving Max to contemplate his words while he swirled the metal straw around and around the pale yellow fruity concoction. As much as he longed for what Simon said to be true, he remained skeptical that someone would just enter his life, out of the blue—

“Is this seat taken?” 

Jumping slightly from surprise, Max’s head jerked sideways to meet a pair of friendly blue eyes. 

Rendered speechless from her sudden appearance and still plagued by lingering traces of embarrassment, all he could manage was a subtle shake ‘no’ as Zoey hopped onto the stool next to him. Her herringbone blazer was gone, leaving her in a short sleeve black button-down shirt, her wild hair framing her face.

“Hey, Eddie!” she greeted the bartender, who smiled kindly at her and asked if she wanted her usual, which she confirmed with an overzealous, “yes, please.”

When Eddie deposited a generous glass of red wine in front of her, she expressed her gratitude and took a long sip, more of a gulp, really. Or a chug.

Max’s lips curved up in amusement, though his heart had yet to calm back down, still racing at above average speed. “That kind of day, huh?” 

“ _Oh yeah_ ,” she huffed, expelling every ounce of air from her lungs as she clung tightly onto her glass, like if she lessened her grip it might disappear. “You have _no_ idea.” She paused, tilting her head as she assessed him. “Or maybe you do,” she added teasingly, with no indication of malice in her expression. Just twinkling blue eyes and a smile hovering on her lips.

Momentarily breaking eye contact, Max took a fortifying sip of his tropical drink, wishing he had ordered his usual whiskey sour, instead, if only to have something stronger to ease his nerves. He couldn’t pinpoint why his body felt like it was currently in overdrive and his palms were so sweaty, but he hedged a guess it had something to do with the fact that he _really_ didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of her, _again._

“I have to ask...earlier, you said something that’s been stuck at the back of my mind.” Swiveling to face her, he emitted a brief, incredulous breath before asking his question. “How do you know about Tobin Batra, of all people?” His curiosity outweighed the stab of pain and betrayal saying that name brought forth. He concentrated on the woman next to him, trying not to imagine what Autumn and Tobin were probably doing right that very second.

Shrugging a shoulder, Zoey took another sip of wine before answering. “I majored in Computer Science at Berkeley. Summa cum laude, in fact.” She threw him a self-satisfied grin. “ _Everyone_ knew who Tobin Batra was and how he hacked into the CIA.”

It took him a second to process that information, his eyebrows furrowing together. “You went to school in California?”

“Born and raised in San Francisco,” she declared proudly, taking another hearty swig of wine, her cheeks already flushed a deep shade of pink. “And here’s a fun fact for ya!” Zoey wagged her finger at him. “Because I totally _wasn’t_ eavesdropping earlier when your ex was talking about where you work. But many, many, _many_ years ago, I accepted a job offer at SPRQ Point.”

Max’s lips parted in surprise, his mind abuzz with activity while she bobbed her head in agreement. “I _know_. Crazy, right? _We_ ,” she wildly gestured back and forth between them, “would have worked in the same building. Who knows, maybe we would’ve been on the same team?”

“But you ended up here.” He pointed out the obvious, noticing the way she abruptly averted her gaze, her finger now trailing its way carefully along the rim of her glass, her body slumping forward as she exhaled a soft sigh. “I did.”

“Am I being too pushy if I ask how? Or why?”

Zoey stopped tracing the rim in favor of drumming her fingernails against the side of the glass, in rapid succession at first before slowing down to more absentminded tapping as she appeared to be lost in thought. She was quiet for a long time and right when Max was about to tell her to forget he even asked, she sucked in a steadying breath. “Have you ever felt, like, just so much _pressure_ to be something you’re not? Or that there’s all these expectations weighing down on you?”

It was a rhetorical question, he knew, but he found himself responding to it all the same. “Yeah,” he admitted in a low tone, watching as her eyes darted to meet his, drinking in his tortured expression. “I know that all too well.” A sensation of mutual understanding passed between them and Max found himself getting swept away by the soft look in her eyes. Before he lost himself completely, he turned his attention back on his drink.

“Did your parents make you feel like you weren’t good enough or something?” he inquired, thinking of his own father and how he never could manage to measure up to what had been expected of him.

“Oh no, the opposite, actually. They showered me with praise for everything that I did, which meant that I never knew how I _really_ was because I got no negative criticism. And so I had to prove to myself that I was the best to show I was as great as they already thought I was.” She let loose a little laugh, shaking her head as Max stared at her in bewilderment. “I know that probably doesn’t make any sense...” she trailed off for a moment, collecting and organizing her thoughts. 

“A little over five years ago now, I was _at_ SPRQ Point for company orientation, but I never made it past the panic attack I had in the women’s restroom.” She hesitated, an expression of shocked disbelief working its way onto her face, like she couldn’t believe what she just revealed. A second later, she was peering over at him with a look in her eyes he couldn’t quite decipher, but he felt his breath catch in his throat. “I’ve never told that to anyone before. You’re very easy to talk to,” she stated matter-of-factly before forging ahead. “Anyway, _that’s_ when I knew I needed a change, to just...get away from what I thought I _needed_ to be so I could figure out what I _wanted_ to be.”

“And did you?”

“I’m not sure,” she confessed, still gently tapping on the glass, her arm brushing against his and he idly wondered when they had shifted closer to each other, so close he could detect the faint floral aroma of her perfume. “When I first got here, I felt like I could finally _breathe_ again. The relief was instantaneous. But I missed my family, I’m never _not_ missing them. My brother and his wife just had their first kid, my nephew, Miles.” Zoey shot him a sad smile. “I’ve only seen pictures. It’s been almost a year since I’ve last visited.”

“If you’re not happy here, why don’t you just...go back home, then?” Even as Max suggested it, he knew it was easier said than done. He’d spent the majority of his life fleeing the ghosts of his past. Something told him he and Zoey were one and the same in that regard. 

She nudged her shoulder against his before picking up her glass and tipping back the remainder of the wine. “The longer you’re away, the harder it is to come back,” she articulated plainly and left the words to hang in the air, moving on to a different topic of conversation.

They talked awhile longer before Zoey started gathering up her belongings, citing work in the morning as her excuse to leave and Max quickly tamped down his dismay that their time together was ending so soon. When she stood up, slinging the strap of her purse around her shoulder, he blurted out, “Hey, I really enjoyed talking with you tonight. You certainly helped clear some things up for me.”

Reaching out to rest her hand on his forearm, she flexed her fingers, giving him a light squeeze and lingering there as their eyes met. “Happy to help.” She withdrew her hand and sauntered backwards, flashing him a coy smile. “Goodnight, Max Richman.”

At that precise moment, he knew without a doubt that his name had never sounded better than it did falling from her lips and he stared dumbly after her, the aftershocks of her touch staying with him long after she had gone.

* * *

Back in his room, Max reflected on his past through the scrutinizing lens of reality, factoring in the fresh insight and perspective he had gained that night from his conversations with both Simon and Zoey.

He couldn’t help but wonder if maybe a significant part of his relationship with Autumn _had_ been more about trying to do what was expected of him rather than having actually found someone he could have a genuine, lifelong companionship with. Was it possible that their relationship was just Max ticking off another box on the checklist of his life to prove he could have it all — the successful career, the fancy house, the perfect wife? He wasn’t a failure because he had those things to showcase to the world and he could stick them up and wave them around like a giant middle finger to his father.

The more he ruminated on it, Max came to the realization that while he _loved_ Autumn, there had always been a part of himself that felt _relieved_ when she actively avoided the subject of marriage, of being bound together forever. He had saved up for a ring because it seemed like _the next logical step_ , but he never felt any real sense of urgency to pursue the matter further. He’d bring up the idea, she would deflect, and he was content to let it go. And now he had an explanation for why that was.

But as he crawled into bed and burrowed beneath the white pillowy comforter, he drifted off to sleep, not thinking about Autumn, or his father, or god forbid, _Tobin_. Instead, he saw flashes of vibrant red hair and endless blue eyes, eyes that seemed to penetrate right into his soul and make him feel _seen_ and _understood_ for the first time in his life. He allowed that feeling to embrace him and it was far more comforting than even the exceptionally cozy comforter that was pressing down on him. 

Above all, he felt the pull of a thread as it weaved its way in and out of his heart, a very welcome start to mending the hole inside his chest.


	5. The One About Riding The Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was a nightmare to write, but I incorporated lines from 3 other shows and if you recognize any of them, then clearly you have _taste_.
> 
> Also...Golden Globe nominee ✨Jane✨Levy✨

The next morning, Max awoke to a gentle breeze and the warming rays of sunlight streaming in through the open window. Instead of yanking the covers up over his head, determined to evade reality as had become habitual the last few months, he hummed a contented sigh before climbing out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was suddenly _okay_ or that all of yesterday’s problems had vanished — his future remained uncertain and the wounds of his past had yet to heal (as he had just barely scratched the surface of acknowledging those wounds even existed) — but undeniably, he was doing _better_ and feeling cautiously optimistic for the first time in what felt like forever. And he was going to ride that wave of hopefulness as far as it would take him.

After giving his beard some much needed maintenance, Max toyed with his hair to give the appearance of having perfectly placed, naturally tousled curls and not at all like he spent the better part of twenty minutes trying to achieve that look.

Then, he donned a navy and red floral printed button-down, a pair of light blue shorts, slipped on his sandals, and headed out the door to grab some breakfast with a spring in his step.

Approaching the lobby, the prospect of seeing Zoey once again flitted across his mind and he sucked in a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He was calm. He was cool. He was confident. And his goal was to project those very attributes as he leisurely strolled his way across the bright, open space.

Which would have worked if his eyes hadn’t immediately sought her out the moment the front desk came into view, tripping over his own two feet and almost mowing down a sign in the process. Upon closer inspection, he discovered the sign informed hotel guests about a Luau happening later that night and he mentally filed that information away.

By the time Max straightened up and braved a surreptitious glance in Zoey’s direction, he was relieved to see her preoccupied with checking in a family, oblivious to what was apparently becoming a trend of Max embarrassing himself.

He felt like he was transported back to high school, every bit the awkward and socially inept teenager he had been, stumbling and fumbling over his words (and feet) as he made a complete fool of himself in front of his crush.

Except, of course, this situation was entirely different because he didn’t have a _crush_ , how could he? He knew next to nothing about the enigma that was Zoey Clarke.

And he was far past the age to be having a _crush_ on someone.

Shaking his head to banish that ridiculous notion from his mind, he continued toward his destination, unaware that mere seconds after he tore his gaze away from her, Zoey’s eyes locked on him and followed his retreating form until he disappeared from sight.

* * *

After breakfast, in keeping with the spirit of riding the wave of optimism, Max decided to literally ride the wave.

He arrived at a small stand on the beach, a surfboard propped up next to it that read, appropriately enough, ‘Surfing Lessons.’ Must be the right place.

Sitting behind the stand was a man in a plaid tank top, floppy blonde hair, and a pair of binoculars pressed up against his eyes, looking skyward.

“Hey, are you Leif?”

The man, assumed to be Leif, slowly lowered the binoculars and leveled his stare at Max, his eyes scanning over his face, long enough for Max to shift uncomfortably on his feet.

Finally, he spoke, gesturing toward Max with a lazy wave of his hand, which contradicted the intensity of his gaze. “Looks like you got a little pain behind those eyes.”

“Yeah,” Max agreed with a halfhearted shrug. “A little.”

A lopsided grin appeared on Leif’s face as he jumped up and placed his hands on his hips. “Well, I know just the cure. Let’s go surfing!” Then, with a quick clap of his hands, he stalked off, leaving Max no choice but to follow.

Jogging to catch up, he fell into step beside Leif as they walked across the beach, stopping at a nearby shed to retrieve some surfboards and wetsuits.

Once they were changed, Leif crossed his arms and nodded his head toward the ocean, looking solemn. “Okay, when we’re out there, I want you to ignore your instincts. _I’m_ going to be your instinct. Don’t _do_ anything, don’t _try_ to surf. Just don’t do it. The _less_ you do, the _more_ you do.”

Max, perplexed, stood rooted to the spot as he cast a sidelong glance at his instructor, trying to determine if he was being serious. What kind of lesson was this?

“...okay?” he managed after a long beat of silence, eyebrows scrunched together, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.

On the safety of dry land, Leif had Max practice standing up on the board, over and over and over again, but he remained unsatisfied with every attempt, pursing his lips in disapproval and shaking his head with increasing fervor each time.

“That still wasn’t quite it, but we’re gonna figure it out on the water.” Leif tucked his surfboard under his arm. “Let’s go, man!” he called out behind him, already striding purposely toward the ocean, his long legs carrying him with ease.

Max scrambled after him, his feet sinking into the sand as he pitched forward from the weight of the board. He just barely managed to avoid face planting, his free arm pinwheeling at his side in frightened desperation. With his heart pounding, he took a moment to regain his wits and his balance, blowing out a few harsh breaths as sweat trickled down to his brow.

Somehow, Max made it into the water without further incident, although the surfing went exactly as expected for an East Coast Jewish Boy whose first time touching a surfboard was approximately thirty minutes ago.

Still, it felt good to step outside of his comfort zone, to try something new even though it terrified him. And boy did it terrify him, every time his feet slipped and he plunged into the water, limbs flailing, afraid he’d knock himself out cold by bludgeoning his head against the board.

But, miraculously, he made it back to shore unscathed and high on adrenaline, feeling like he could conquer anything. After years of complacency and just going through the motions, a bystander to his own life, he now felt awakened to the possibilities of what his life _could_ become, a life that was well within his reach.

All he had to do was be brave enough to grab it.

* * *

Later, back in his suite, Max initiated a FaceTime call with Mo, sliding open the glass doors that led to his private patio, the lush foliage and vibrant flowers his backdrop as he took a seat, the vast expanse of the ocean stretched out before him.

Mo appeared onscreen, promptly arching an eyebrow. “What’s going on with your face?” he asked, his expression one of embellished bewilderment. “You don’t look like a disgruntled pelican or like you’re giving up on the world. You look almost...” Mo gasped dramatically, bringing his fingertips to his lips, “ _happy_.”

Emitting a soft laugh, Max leaned back in the chair, his features relaxed. “I feel almost happy.”

“I love this for you. Tell me _everything_.”

Grinning at Mo’s enthusiasm, Max began to fill him in on all the events that had transpired since they last spoke. “Well, last night I went down to grab a drink and I was talking to Zoey—”

“Hold up.” Through the screen, Mo raised a hand. “Who the hell is _Zoey?_ ”

“She works at the front desk,” he readily supplied.

“ _Oooh_ , the cute check-in lady?”

He could feel the heat creeping up from his neck as a dumb smile slinked its way across his face. If Mo told him there was a swarm of cartoon hearts floating around his head right now, he wouldn’t be surprised. 

“Looks like someone has a crush,” Mo noted in a singsong voice.

Max shook his head. “It’s not like that, we shared _one_ conversation,” he asserted, conveniently leaving out the part where it felt like they connected on some deep, visceral level during that one conversation. “And besides, I just got out of a longterm relationship, I can’t possibly have feelings for someone else already.”

“And why not? Autumn already frolicked her way into another relationship.” Max mashed his lips together at the reminder of that fact, but said nothing. He could always count on Mo to be brutally honest.

“I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it...”

Max tilted his head, silently motioning for Mo to get on with it already, knowing it was inevitable.

“You should ask Zoey out. Grab some dinner. And hey, if it goes well, maybe get some _breakfast_ ,” his voice lowered at the double entendre and before Max could even open his mouth to protest that suggestion, Mo continued. “Okay, okay. Just hear me out, Maxi Pad.” Max scowled at the nickname, but Mo plowed ahead with his pitch. “You _deserve_ a little happiness. So, whatever you’re thinking right now, whatever excuses you’re making up in that head of yours, I want you to do the opposite.”

“So, if you want me to do the opposite of what I’m thinking, then I should...” he pretended to mull it over, tapping a finger to his chin, “ _not_ hang up on you right now?” He flashed a cheeky grin, feeling satisfied when Mo narrowed his eyes at him.

“You know, I don’t know why I even bother with you,” Mo grumbled, but it lacked any true animosity. “Anyway, let me leave you with this. What you felt for Autumn, you’re never going to feel the same for anyone else, but you can’t let that stop you from exploring something new. Sometimes, great possibilities are right in front of us and we don’t see them because we choose not to.” Mo shot him a pointed look from beneath lowered brows.

“When did you get so wise?” Max teased right as a knock on the door sounded in the background through the phone and Mo muttered a hasty, “Gotta go!”

The connection was lost before Max had a chance to tell Mo that he was starting to realize his feelings for Autumn weren’t nearly as profound as he previously thought. However, with that being said, he also wasn’t about to explore anything _new_ just yet, and certainly not with the cute redhead he’d be leaving behind in just a few short days.

* * *

Freshly showered and wearing a white button-down with the top few buttons undone and khaki shorts, Max made his way to the outdoor pavilion where the Luau was being held, greeted by the sound of live Hawaiian music pulsing through the air.

His feet faltered and his heart skipped when he saw Zoey manning the podium, wearing a deep blue dress and a white hibiscus flower tucked behind her ear.

Mentally urging himself to stop being an idiot and also not to say anything stupid, he approached her. 

“Nice to see you again, Zoey. You look beautiful.” He winced, he had meant to say she looked _nice_ or _great_ and he tried to backpedal. “I-I mean,” he sputtered, “that’s a...beautiful dress.” His arm jutted out to gesture at the aforementioned dress.

She smirked, but a slight blush tinged her cheeks. “Thank you,” she chuckled lightly before sweeping her eyes over him in appraisal. “You’re looking quite beautiful yourself,” she jested, though her blush deepened as her eyes met his, holding a gleam of playfulness.

His brain struggled to form a response, his mouth falling ajar in shock. Was she _flirting_ with him?

Then, her features suddenly transformed, becoming impassive. “May I help you with something else, Max?” she asked, adopting that customer service voice and Max was sent reeling. _Had_ she been flirting, or was she just messing with him? What game was she playing at?

Closing his mouth, he huffed out a stream of air through his nose. “Ah, nope,” he answered, bowing his head and feeling very much like a fool. “I’m just going to make my way inside.” He pointed past her, the movement awkward and jerky. “And get myself a drink. Uh, see you later.”

Clumsily, he skirted around her and made a trajectory for the bar, ordering a whiskey sour (as well as a mai tai, for the sake of tradition) before finding an empty table and taking a seat.

“Hi there!” George popped up out of nowhere, setting silverware down on the table in front of Max. “Still flying solo, I see!” he noted energetically, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Max remarked, his voice flat.

In response, George gleefully shook his head before resting a hand on Max’s shoulder, his mouth forming a grim line. “I think you are _so brave_ ,” he whispered passionately. And then he was gone.

A quick scan around and Max recognized a few familiar faces. Near the stage, he spotted Simon and Tatiana joining a group of people learning the hula, the crowd mostly comprised of women, but a few men were scattered throughout.

Moving on, he was somewhat stunned to see his surf instructor, Leif, at a table on the opposite end, sitting with a man who looked like Harry Styles. Max squinted. Maybe it _was_ Harry Styles?

And then, since Max had been fortunate enough to avoid seeing Autumn and Tobin all day, the two of them entered his field of vision with hands intertwined and faces beaming.

He muttered a curse under his breath when he saw them sit just a few tables away and he grabbed for his drink, taking an extra large gulp, the whiskey searing a path down his throat as he fought to avoid making eye contact.

While he was coming around to accept that Autumn wasn’t his Meant To Be, he wasn’t particularly ready to see her wrapped around another man just yet. Or ever, if that was an option.

Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he went to grab food from the buffet, piling his plate high with an assortment of the authentic Polynesian cuisine before he scouted out a new table that was far, far away from Autumn and Tobin. Problem solved.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of genuine enjoyment, the sun now dipping below the horizon and Max watched as a new group of performers took the stage, an equal mix of professional hula dancers and guests of the hotel. Max was pleased to see Simon and Tatiana among them, their smiles each a mile wide. Their joy was infectious, it extended out into the crowd and reached Max, where a smile of his own blossomed across his face.

Halfway through the performance, he felt something warm graze his arm and when he turned his head, he saw the back of a familiar deep blue dress and red hair a few feet away, stopping to take a seat at the table occupied by Leif and his long-haired friend.

Staring at Zoey, he wondered if she had intentionally brushed against him or if his imagination was just running wild, likely aided by the alcohol in his system. He figured it was the latter, but as he kept stealing furtive glances in her direction, he caught her gaze more than what could be considered purely coincidental.

That sent an unexpected thrill through him, the notion that she seemed just as intrigued by him as he was by her. Was he reading too much into the innocent interaction? _Probably_ , he mused.

Against his better judgement and despite his earlier internal proclamation that he wouldn’t explore anything new, especially not with someone who lived an ocean away, he found himself wanting to spend more time with Zoey, anyway. To chase after that feeling from last night, of being understood. And the clock was ticking, he only had three nights left. What was he waiting for?

Feeling emboldened from the whiskey he had already consumed, he downed the rest of his drink, pretending it was Felix Felicis. Because while liquid courage was great, liquid luck was even better. He anxiously rapped his knuckles on the wooden table and then got to his feet, striding over before he could lose his nerve. “Hey, Zoey?”

Pivoting in her seat to face him more fully, she peered expectantly up at him, a shadow of a smile on her face. “Yeah?”

Leif and the Harry Styles doppelgänger shared a conspiratorial look and for a second, Max’s confidence wavered. For all he knew, Zoey was dating one of them. Or both of them? In hindsight, he probably should have pulled her aside to talk in private. But he had come this far, he had to at least say something.

_Okay Max, you gotta take a chance on something, sometime._

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he decided to go for it. “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Hang out, just the two of us?” He held his breath, waiting for the rejection that was sure to come.

“Sure.” Zoey shrugged. “Why not?” The nonchalance of her tone was slightly disheartening and he briefly wondered if she was only agreeing out of pity, but then a moment later her lips curved up and she added, “I’d love to.” 


	6. The One With The Easter Bunny

After accepting his invitation to hang out, Max was at a loss for what to do _next_ as he was somewhat surprised he had gotten this far. Where could he possibly even take her? He had come to Hawaii on a whim, with no time to conduct extensive (or _any_ ) research, which meant he didn’t know where anything was beyond the boundaries of the resort.

 _Unless_...they stayed there? At her workplace sanctioned event? At a table away from her two friends who were currently nudging each other and wearing shit-eating grins. But if they stayed, that also ran the risk of another awkward encounter with Tobin and Autumn, which was not _exactly_ an interaction he felt like suffering through when all he really wanted was to spend time with Zoey, one-on-one.

As if sensing his predicament, no doubt given away by his shell-shocked expression, Zoey stood and bade her friends farewell, shooting a glare at them when they whispered something Max couldn’t quite make out. They snickered in response and she rolled her eyes, but a smile flickered at the corner of her mouth before she turned to him and said, “Come with me, I know just the place.”

On their way out, Zoey snagged a couple of beers and led him down a sandy path that emptied out onto the nearly deserted beach.

For the first few minutes, neither spoke as they strolled along the coastline, the Hawaiian music from the live band slowly fading away behind them until only the sound of the waves crashing against the shore remained.

“So,” Zoey’s voice cut through the silence, bringing the bottle up to her mouth to take a sip. “How are you enjoying your stay so far?” Her eyes darted over to him. “I mean, given the whole,” she nonsensically waved her free hand around in the air, “ _situation_ with your ex.”

“Honestly?” Max asked, and then took a moment to assess how he was feeling. “I feel...pretty good.” He gave a few quick nods as he reveled in the truth behind those words. “It’s not exactly _fun_ seeing her and Tobin together, I’m still trying to process _that_. But I think I can finally acknowledge that I was holding onto something that was never really there between us. Like our whole relationship was always fun and easy, but it lacked, I don’t know, depth? We never had any of those hard conversations, it was all very...surface level. Not exactly the strongest of foundations to build a life together, y’know?”

The words left in a rush, eager to be out in the open. Giving voice to the thoughts that had been swirling around since last night made him feel significantly lighter, unburdened. Max had been trapped inside his own head for so long, it was _nice_ to have someone to talk to.

“Yeah.” Zoey puckered her lips and nodded in agreement. “That makes sense to me.”

“What about you? Is there anyone special in your life?” He averted his gaze, taking a swig of beer as he feigned disinterest in her response, but he could feel his heart rate accelerating in anticipation.

“ _Nooo_ -pe,” she drew out the word and Max felt a ripple of relief, but chose not to entertain the reason _why_. “All my previous relationships have been mentally draining and unnecessarily complicated and ended in disaster,” she spoke candidly, huffing out a harsh breath. “Every single one.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, her expression pensive.

“Well,” Max slowed to a stop and Zoey raised her eyebrows in question as she tentatively followed suit, twisting her body to face him. He extended his arm, tilting his bottle toward her in a toast. “Here’s hoping our future romantic endeavors are a lot less catastrophic.”

With a snort and a subtle shake of her head, she shot him a wry smile and then mirrored his actions by extending her arm. “Here, here.” They clinked bottles, eyes locked on each other as they tipped back their beer in unison.

And then they continued on.

Silence descended upon them again as they moved, drifting closer together with each step until his skin was flushing with heat from their proximity and he had to remind himself to breathe normally.

When their hands brushed, they glanced at each other a moment and shared a shy smile before looking ahead as they continued their slow trek to a destination unknown to Max. He found he didn’t mind that he had no clue where they were headed, he was happy just to be walking alongside her with the caress of the ocean breeze helping to cool his heated skin.

Eventually, they happened upon a bonfire where a dozen or so people were gathered, a much more mellow affair than the cacophony of noise and activity back at the Luau.

“I can’t promise Leif and Aiden won’t show up here.” Zoey carefully maneuvered into a sitting position in the sand, mindful of her dress. “In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that they will show up at some point. But when that happens, I have a couple of ideas where we can go next.”

As he joined her on the ground, his heart leapt at her words and his earlier concern that this was just a pity hang evaporated. She seemed equally as eager to prolong their time together.

Max racked his brain for what to say next. Something insightful and profound to further explore that connection they seemed to have. Or maybe something witty and charming to draw a laugh out of her, make her entire face light up like the most dazzling display of fireworks.

“So, how do you like working at the hotel?”

Or he could say _that?_

Zoey exhaled a soft sigh. “It’s...simple.” She pulled off her sandals, setting them aside before stretching out her legs and leaning back on her hands. “It’s not what I spent basically the entirety of my life meticulously planning I’d be doing, but...” she trailed off, digging her toes in the sand.

“What’s keeping you here?”

She stared out at the ocean, her head tilting to the side after a long moment. “Fear?” she said with an uncertain edge to her tone, her gaze still focused on the water. “I don’t know. I’ve been away so long, I missed out on five years back home. Five years of everyone moving on with their life and making memories that don’t include me. I just don’t know how I’d fit back in.”

As he regarded her, the moonlight illuminating her face while the flicker of firelight danced across her back, his heart clenched at the raw sadness hidden in the spaces between her words. At a life that had been put on pause out of fear, afraid of not being _enough._

It was another thread that bound them. They both shared five years of missed opportunities, falling victim to their own formidable thoughts.

But he found himself wanting to say to Zoey something he had never been able to say to himself.

“I think you’d manage to find your way. It might be scary, but I can’t imagine anyone not welcoming you with open arms. You said you missed out on so much, but your family...I’m sure they feel the same way. They’re missing something pretty big.” He peered over at her, furrowing his brows. “Well, actually, you’re pretty _small_. What are you, five one?”

Zoey gasped indignantly, jabbing a finger into his arm. “I’m five two!” Then, she cracked a grin and turned back to resume staring off into the distance.

“You’re probably right,” she said after awhile and Max noticed her eyes were now a little glossy. She blinked rapidly and then cleared her throat. “Okay. My turn again. How do you like working at SPRQ Point?”

“I don’t.”

Zoey gave him a quizzical look. “You don’t like it?”

“No, I mean, I don’t work there anymore. I got fired a few months ago,” he admitted, feeling that familiar prickle of shame as it scattered its way across his skin. “I should have set the record straight last night when we were talking, but I guess I was a little embarrassed. I’m thirty-one and I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with my life.”

Max felt her eyes studying his profile as he kept his gaze locked on the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

“Well,” Zoey began and from the corner of his vision he saw as she twisted around to grab something. “Here’s hoping we both get our shit together.”

Glancing at the bottle in her hand, he emitted a soft chuckle before picking up his own bottle and tapping it against hers. “Here, here.”

They drank just as angry shouts erupted behind them. Looking over his shoulder, Max witnessed the beginning of a drunken brawl, a flurry of fists and sloppy movements. His head snapped back to Zoey, who wore an amused expression.

“So, you up for a short drive?” she asked, already pulling her sandals back on.

Hopping onto his feet, he proffered his hand to help her up. “Lead the way,” he said once she was upright.

Her gaze drifted down to their where their hands were joined and after a brief moment of hesitation, she threaded their fingers together, flashing him a bashful smile before she swept him away.

* * *

“What exactly is the theme of this place?” Max asked once they entered the bar, brows knitted together as his eyes darted around erratically, trying to focus on one thing, but found himself distracted by all the things.

It looked like someone’s attic had thrown up all over the place. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Christmas lights were strewn about, tangled together and weaving their way in every direction, covering every inch of the ceiling.

As he kept scanning, he soon realized it wasn’t just Christmas lights, but also lights that were in the shape of pink and red hearts, candy corn, shamrocks, tiny purple spiders. He even spotted a string of blue menorahs. In one corner, there was an inflatable Easter bunny with bulging eyes and a sinister smile, which must have been plucked right out of his _worst fucking nightmare_ because a literal chill ran down his spine.

Zoey didn’t answer his question, just ordered him to sit at an empty table while she went to grab their drinks.

When she returned, she deposited a glass in front of him and he looked skeptically at the light brown (grayish?) drink. It reminded him of sludge. He swirled the metal straw around the drink in mystification. “What _is_ this?”

“It’s called a Dirty Snowball. Just drink it,” she urged, leaning forward as she watched him with interest.

The eagerness in her tone paired with the fact she had yet to take a sip of her own drink made him suspicious. “What’s in it?”

“Drink it and find out,” she suggested simply. Then, she cocked her head and batted her eyelashes at him in an exaggerated fashion. “Maxwell, do you not trust me?”

Now, he was almost certain that he was being tricked, ensnared by a diabolical little fox with bright blue eyes. He tried the drink anyway, taking a small, tentative sip. It tasted like coffee and chocolate liqueur. And vodka.

“It’s good,” he decided.

Zoey rolled her eyes. “Told you.” She bent down to wrap her lips around the straw and took a long swill from her glass of sludge. When she pulled away, her features morphed into a grave expression. “I would never lead you astray,” she said in mock seriousness.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, an announcement was made signaling the start of Karaoke Night and Zoey immediately jumped at the opportunity, lunging forward to grab his arm and jerk it around vigorously. “Max! You _have_ to go up there!”

Anxiety crowded his chest. “Oh, uh...” He swung his head rapidly from side to side, his mouth silently forming the word ‘ _no_ ’. And then, with more confidence, he used his voice, “No. I don’t sing.”

Her eyebrows jumped up to meet her hairline. “ _Oh really?_ ” There was a sly glint in her eyes. “Because that’s not what I heard,” she said in a lilting voice. “In fact,” she released his arm and held up a finger, wagging it at him, “the multiple phone calls I received at the front desk the other day would beg to differ.” And then she had the audacity to shrug her shoulders in a false display of innocence.

He leveled his stare at her. Oh, so this woman was _definitely_ devious, but an idea popped in his head and he figured a game without two players was hardly a game at all.

“Okay, I’ll sing,” Max agreed and Zoey yelped out a victorious ‘ _yes!_ ’ and gave a triumphant fist pump.

“On one condition,” he continued, watching as her jubilant expression turned into one of alarm, as if she knew exactly what his one condition would be. “You’re singing with me.”

“B-but, I’m not _really_ a music person. I don’t know music. Or songs. Or like, the words to songs,” she spouted out in a nervous ramble, which had Max fighting back a smile.

However, even given her (rather pitiful) excuse, he was far from deterred. “That’s the beauty of the teleprompter. It gives you the exact lyrics, right there on the screen. All you have to do is look at the words and sing along,” he assured her, his tone kind, but he knew his eyes belied his true deceitful intent. “I assume you can read, Miss ‘I Graduated With Honors From Berkeley.’” He grinned impishly at her and he detected the tiniest quirk of her mouth before she pressed her lips tight together.

“The _highest_ of honors,” she corrected him.

“Ah, right. _Of course_.” He smacked his palm against his forehead. “My most humble apologies.”

Zoey narrowed her eyes at him a second before they both burst into laughter.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” she relented, letting out a dramatic sigh of defeat as she dropped her shoulders in resignation. “Let’s go duet, I guess!”

* * *

Without giving it too much consideration or forethought, Max selected one of the first songs he recognized and they took the stage.

Squinting against the harsh spotlight shining directly on her face, Zoey shifted closer to him until she was safe from the unforgiving beam. She shot him a nervous smile before directing her attention on the screen and taking a few unsteady breaths.

The music started up and Max sang the first verse, summoning all the courage he could muster, hoping it was enough to sustain the two of them because Zoey looked absolutely petrified.

_Baby, when I met you, there was peace unknown. I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb. I was soft inside, there was something going on_

Zoey joined in, both of her hands white knuckling the microphone, and for some reason, all Max could think in that moment was how adorable she was, clutching onto that microphone like it was a lifeline.

_You do something to me that I can't explain. Hold me closer and I feel no pain. Every beat of my heart, we got something going on_

Her voice came out quiet and wavering, he could see the slight trembling of her arms and he nodded encouragingly at her while he sang the next line.

_Tender love is blind, it requires a dedication_

She jumped back in, her voice a little stronger now, her eyes zipping between Max and the screen, loosening her grip on the microphone, ever-so-slightly.

_All this love we feel needs no conversation. We ride it together, ah-ah, making love with each other, ah-ah_

At that part, Max stuttered, hoping she didn’t think he purposely chose this song to imply that he wanted to _make love_ to her. She wasn’t thinking that right now, was she? Not that he was necessarily _opposed_ to that idea, but...oh right, he was supposed to be singing.

_Islands in the stream, that is what we are. No one in between, how can we be wrong? Sail away with me, to another world. And we rely on each other, ah-ah, from one lover to another, ah-ah_

When he caught her eyes again, she wasn’t using them to shoot daggers at him, so he figured that was promising. He also noticed that didn’t look quite so ill, she looked more relaxed. In fact, she looked _radiant._ And when she took the next part alone, he watched her in awe.

_I can't live without you if the love was gone. Everything is nothing if you got no one. And you just walk in the night, slowly losing sight of the real thing_

Max joined back in and he couldn’t help but think they sounded good together, their voices mingling in perfect harmony.

_But that won't happen to us and we got no doubt, too deep in love and we got no way out. And the message is clear, this could be the year for the real thing_

Zoey stepped closer to him as she sang her line, now using only one hand to hold the microphone, the other resting lightly against her stomach.

_No more will you cry, baby, I will hurt you never_

Pivoting to face each other as they sang, with Zoey stealing glances at the teleprompter when necessary, matching smiles bloomed whenever their eyes met, along with a quick skip of his heart.

_We start and end as one, in love forever. We can ride it together, ah-ah, making love with each other, ah-ah. Islands in the stream, that is what we are. No one in between, how can we be wrong? Sail away with me, to another world. And we rely on each other, ah-ah, from one lover to another, ah-ah_

Max reached out to grab her hand while he sang his part, his voice growing bolder as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

_Sail away_

With a grin, he maneuvered her into a spin, which had her laughing her way through the next line as she threw her head back in a staged flourish of passion. 

_Ooooh, come sail away with me_

It felt like they were the only two people in the room, Zoey no longer holding back as the song neared its conclusion. She was even tapping her foot to the beat and swaying her hips in a manner that Max could only assume was meant to be dancing, but it looked more like she was a drunken toddler. His heart swelled with affection and his smile was a permanent fixture on his face.

_Islands in the stream, that is what we are. No one in between, how can we be wrong? Sail away with me, to another world. And we rely on each other, ah-ah, from one lover to another, ah-ah. Islands in the stream, that is what we are. No one in between..._

The final notes faded away.

Breathless and blushing furiously, Zoey ducked her head. When she looked back up and met his gaze, her smile was so bright and carefree, her eyes shining like they held every star from the night sky.

Not for the first time that evening, he sent a reminder to his brain to suck some air into his lungs already before he passed out from lack of oxygen. That would be fun to explain to Zoey once he came to.

‘ _Sorry, you just looked so beautiful right then that for a moment I seemed to have forfeited the intrinsic ability known as breathing_.’

Grabbing his hand, she yanked him toward the edge of the stage and away from his thoughts, stepping down and leading him back to their table.

She didn’t immediately release his hand and he almost kissed her then, with her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead and her cheeks flushed and staring at him with unrestrained merriment in her eyes, the air between them crackling with electricity while his heart drummed rapidly in his chest.

But then she withdrew her hand as if she had just been struck by lightning, circumventing her gaze as she made a clumsy grab for her drink, and the moment was lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used is “Islands in the Stream” by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers.


	7. The One Where They Jump

In the totally calm, super chill organ that was her brain, Zoey had too many tabs open as she drove Max back to the resort to drop him off.

At the bar, Max had wanted to kiss her, she was _almost_ sure of that. 

And she was _one hundred percent_ sure that she wanted him to. Or, she had been until rationality swooped in, picking her up with its vicious claws of truth and flying her back to a place known as _reality._

Gripping the steering wheel, her thoughts ping-ponged across her mind as she initiated the daunting task of trying to sift through all the damn tabs.

Of course, she must first state the obvious — _Max was attractive_. She had eyes and her vision was perfect.

But she was far from shallow and she knew from past horrendous relationships that appearances weren’t everything.

And even more important than his devastating good looks was the fact that he had just gotten out of a longterm relationship a few weeks ago. Like _five years_ long.

Although, it seemed like maybe that relationship was well and truly over way before it _actually_ ended?

But she’d only just met Max yesterday, so who knows? He could have been lying earlier when he said that stuff on the beach, under the guise of saving face. And she couldn’t necessarily blame him for that.

Except, the honest timbre of his voice and the open vulnerability in his eyes seemed to suggest otherwise. Not to mention, it felt like she had known him her entire life. But that was crazy, wasn’t it? To feel so connected to a person you literally just met _yesterday?_

Then, the reminder that Max lived in San Francisco and would be leaving in three days flashed neon across her mind, blocking out everything else like an annoying pop-up ad and she came hurtling back to reality.

Whatever did, or _didn’t_ , happen between them would only ever exist in this fleeting space of time, barely a blip on the timeline of her life.

It would be so _reckless_ , so unbelievably _shortsighted_ , to entertain the idea of sharing even just one kiss.

...Right?

Or not? Because a kiss could just be a kiss. No big deal. Was she overthinking this? She was _definitely_ overthinking this. And why was her heart racing like she’d just finished sprinting a 5k? 

Zoey clutched the steering wheel tighter, so tight that her hands cramped up and she was forced to loosen her grip, but that brought about a whole new problem because she was still feeling very much on edge and she desperately needed to do _something_ with her hands. Like tap them swiftly against the steering wheel like she was hyped up on ten shots of espresso or fist them in Max’s shirt and yank him over the center console to find out if his lips _were_ as soft as they looked.

If she did that, they’d probably end up careening off a cliff, so...

She resumed her death clench, grateful that Max seemed to be engrossed in whatever podcast was currently playing, leaving her free to continue her mental debate while she teetered on the edge of insanity.

Damn it, where was the Zoey from an hour ago? The one who could so effortlessly flirt and banter with Max without spiraling out of control. Could _that_ Zoey come back out?

By the time she pulled up to the resort, she had successfully wrangled her anxiety (and, apparently, her libido) into a more moderate, manageable level.

After she put the car in park, she clasped her hands together, just in case they got any untoward ideas. 

“Hey, thanks for hanging out with me. I had a really great time tonight,” Max said once they were stopped.

When she glanced over, she could see the sincerity in his expression. “Me too. Tonight was the most fun I’ve had in a _really_ long time.” _Possibly ever,_ but she thought that might come across a bit too strong.

“Really?” he asked quietly, almost in disbelief, the softest smile on his face and looking like he had just heard the best news of his life. 

Zoey nodded, transfixed by his warm brown eyes and how they had melted from her words. “Yeah,” her voice came out in a whisper, she couldn’t pull her gaze away.

And then Max was leaning in and...

_Yes. Okay. I can do this. Yes, I can. Oh god. Oh no. Wait, wait, wait. No._

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut as she turned her head away, already feeling a wave of regret wash over her. A moment later, she offered Max an apologetic look and an explanation. “I just don’t want to complicate things.”

He didn’t appear to be upset or mad, there wasn’t even a hint of disappointment on his face. Just acceptance, like he had known this would be the outcome and that thought sent a sharp jab straight through her heart.

“Right. I get that.” Max fumbled for the door handle. “Well, uh, with that, I bid you adieu and...drive safe.” He got out of the car, ducking down to meet her gaze one last time. “Thanks again, Zoey. For everything.” His smile was warm as he shut the door and walked away.

Zoey waited until he made it inside.

Then, she muttered a string of profanities, slumped over to rest her forehead against the steering wheel, lifted her head back up, put the car in drive, and cursed her stupid brain the entire ride home.

* * *

When Zoey entered the house she shared with Leif and Aiden, she was not surprised to see them propped in front of the television playing Mario Kart.

Per usual, Aiden was standing in a half crouch, really leaning into the turns while Leif and all of his long limbs were sprawled out on their tiny, tattered loveseat (they really should pool their money and purchase a proper couch that could fit all three of them).

What made Zoey do a double take, however, was the presence of a _third_ body squished right next to Leif, and all she could tell about that person was they had dark hair.

Dropping her keys on the counter, the clatter drew the attention of the mystery guest, whose head snapped back to where she was standing and she got a glimpse of... _Tobin Batra? Here? In her house? How? And...why?_

Shaking her head in confusion, Tobin had already turned back to the game as she tentatively inched her way closer. And then she stopped. If _Tobin_ was here, then that must mean...

A quick survey of the room and sure enough, there was Autumn, somewhat hidden and tucked neatly into the armchair, also wielding a controller.

Well, this was unexpected.

Maybe she could sneak by Autumn and her roommates undetected. The stairs were only like, seven steps to her left. And there hadn’t been any recognition on Tobin’s face when he saw her, he might mention seeing a random red-haired chick in the kitchen, but Aiden and Leif would just make some offhanded remark like ‘ _yeah, that’s our roommate_.’ And that would be that.

“Oh hey, Zoey,” Aiden spared her a brief glance and she winced. So much for going unnoticed. “This is Tobin and Autumn. We met them at the Luau. They’re chill. How was your date with Max? You finally get laid?”

“It wasn’t a date,” she replied breezily, even as heat flooded her cheeks.

“Oh c’mon Clarke, you were practically undressing him with your eyes all night,” Leif interjected, his focus never straying from the game.

Aiden nodded. “Yeah, at one point I thought you were about to go rip off his clothes and do him on the table,” he added unhelpfully.

Her face felt like it was on fire, how she didn’t burst into flames right then and there she’d never understand.

To her absolute horror, Autumn had stopped playing and was regarding her with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. But Max was _such_ a common name, there’s no way she’d assume or even guess...

“Max _Richman?_ ” she inquired, and that caused Tobin to spin his head back around, suddenly looking very invested in the conversation.

Before she could lie and choke out the word ‘ _no_ ’, Leif answered for her. “Yeah, he’s staying at the same resort you guys are and Zoey has not shut up about him since last night. Gah! Not another damn banana,” he grumbled, then added, “I actually took him out surfing today. He _sucked_ , but overall, a pretty nice dude.”

Not wanting to deal with the ramifications of Leif’s mortifying declaration or go to prison for murdering her roommate, Zoey made a hasty retreat. “Well, I’m working the morning shift, so I’m just gonna...” She motioned with her thumb up the staircase, stumbling over the first step as she tried to ascend them backwards. “Nice to meet you both. Goodnight!”

As she turned and darted up the stairs, fleeing to the safety of her bedroom, she heard Leif ask, “Wait, how do _you_ know Max?”

Shutting the door firmly behind her, she managed to block out whatever the response was to that question. As she flopped facedown onto her bed, there was only one thought on her mind.

_What the actual f—?_

* * *

Four hours into her shift, Zoey was struggling to stay awake, having only scraped together roughly two hours of sleep before her alarm went off at five in the morning.

Right when she was about to make a quick trip in search of the vital fuel that was caffeine, Aiden approached the front desk wearing his ‘Sacred Grounds’ apron and carrying a large cup of coffee. It had her name written all over it. Literally all over it. In cursive, in big block letters, in a tiny scrawl, in the form of flowers. Work must be pretty slow for him, too, she mused.

“Morning, Zo.” He handed her the coffee and she flashed him a grateful smile. “I made this extra special for you. And by that, I mean there’s a concerning amount of espresso shots in there.”

Without waiting for it to cool, she brought it to her mouth and took a sip, instantly scorching her tongue. “How’d you know I needed this?”

Resting his forearms on the counter, he leaned forward. “You didn’t make it home ‘til after midnight. And when have you _ever_ said no to coffee?”

Zoey raised her eyebrows and tilted the cup toward him. “Fair point.” She took another sip.

“So, I didn’t just come here to deliver your drug of choice...” Aiden laced his fingers together and the look in his eyes made her wary. “I also came to get all the dirty details from last night.”

Ah, of course. She should have known the caffeine hookup came with an ulterior motive.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen. The end.”

Aiden pitched his head back and groaned. “ _Zoey!_ ” Swinging his head back down to stare at her, he fixed her with a frown. “You’re killing me. When’s the last time you dated someone? It’s been over two years, right?”

“Something like that,” she mumbled ruefully, tapping her finger against the lid of the cup. “But look how that turned out!” 

“Yeah, James was a real dick,” he readily agreed. “And hey, that offer still stands, by the way. I’d love to kick his ass for you.”

Zoey’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Okay, okay.” He held up his palms in defeat. “Anyway, I know this is your absolute _least_ favorite topic, but I just want you to give it to me straight, don’t even think, just say the first word that comes to mind.” He paused, then asked, “Do you have any of those pesky ‘ _feelings_ ’ for Max?” 

The air quotes inspired an eye roll before Zoey pursed her lips in contemplation, which elicited an exasperated sigh from Aiden who threw his hands up in the air.

“I told you not to think about it!” he scolded.

Shaking her head, she set her coffee down and tucked her hair behind her ears before placing both hands on her hips. “It doesn’t _matter_ how I feel, okay? Max is going back home in a few days. I can’t get involved with someone that doesn’t even live here.”

“And you won’t date anyone that lives on the island, either,” he pointed out, which was definitely a statement she uttered at least twice a week. “So...what? You’re just going to be alone forever?”

Zoey shrugged, hands still defiantly positioned on her hips.

“Aren’t you tired of letting your life pass you by? Five years from now, is this where you want to be? Still working here, missing your family, never having any fun? You _deserve_ to be happy, Zo. Stop _thinking_ so much and start _doing_.”

She let her arms fall limp at her sides while she struggled to form a strong counterargument, but nothing came to mind. _Did she still want to be here for another five years?_ Her heart knew the answer to that question, even if her mind refused to acknowledge it.

As though he could sense her resolve weakening, Aiden kept up his momentum, rapping his knuckles on the desk.

“Okay, you get off at, what, noon?”

Slowly, Zoey nodded in confirmation, wondering where he was going with this.

“Here’s what you need to do.” Aiden reached over the desk and snatched up the phone. “Call his room right now. If Max answers, take that as a sign from the universe and ask him to hang out. And if he doesn’t pick up, then after work, you and I can go check out the animal shelter, find you your first cat.” He grinned, which made her scowl, but somehow her hand wrapped around the phone and her fingers were dialing for the Presidential Suite.

Looking quite pleased with himself, Aiden took a step back and waved before spinning around and heading back in the direction of the café.

Zoey glowered at his infuriating man bun until Max’s voice came through the speaker and she almost dropped the phone in shock.

“ _Heyyy_ there, Max. It’s me. I-I mean, it’s Zoey.” Her face contorted into a grimace, listening as he returned her greeting with a touch of surprise in his voice.

She twirled the cord around her finger, her heart rate jumping up. “Uh...if you’re not busy later, would you maybe, possibly want to do something? With me? Around one?” She bit down on her lip and waited with bated breath for his response, and then exhaled with a smile when he accepted.

“Okay, cool cool. Um, wear your swimming attire and some comfortable shoes and I will...see you then.” 

Carefully placing the phone back down, she glanced at the time. _9:58._ She tried to keep busy with busywork, which consisted of mindlessly shuffling papers around and testing her pens for ink. And then she organized those pens by color in their little metal cup, blue on the left side, black on the right.

When it felt like an eternity had passed, she checked the clock again. _10:01._ With an aggravated groan, Zoey thought it was pretty dang unfair how the beating of her heart could speed up so easily, but time kept chugging along at its fixed pace.

* * *

With the back of her hand, Zoey swiped away the sweat that was dripping down her forehead before the sunscreen had the chance to seep into her eyes and make them scream in agony, all the while wondering why the _fuck_ she thought hiking would be a fun idea.

Clearly, she was an idiot.

“You doing okay over there, Zoey?” 

She heard the concern in Max’s voice and promptly gave him a weary thumbs up. “I mean...everything hurts...and I’m dying, but yeah, I’m _great_ ,” she huffed out sarcastically between breaths.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he asked teasingly, his breathing only slightly labored from exertion. She sent him the most withering glare she could muster, which was really just a brief narrowing of her eyes because she was concentrating hard on _not_ twisting her ankle today.

They kept walking along the dirt trail, uphill, over jagged rocks and treacherous tree roots, one of which was destined to be her downfall, she was sure of it. With her gazed fixed on the ground, her face kept having surprise encounters with the overgrown fronds spilling out onto the path, her hands constantly flying up to swat them away and she could hear Max chuckling lightly beside her. If she had the energy, she’d come up with some witty and sharp remark, but all she could manage at the moment was an annoyed ‘ _hmph_.’

Approximately ten torturous minutes later, she was relieved to hear the rushing of water. “Oh thank god,” Zoey gasped out when they came to a stop at their destination, panting as she brought her hands to rest on top of her head while she worked on sucking air back into her lungs.

When she no longer felt like she was about to pass out, she carefully led Max (who had been waiting _so_ patiently for her to collect herself and had _not at all_ been watching her with a small smirk playing on his lips) onto a ledge to reveal the glistening sapphire water some twenty-five feet below.

“ _Wow_ ,” he exclaimed in awe. “How do we get down there?”

“If we cross that bridge, there’s a path that will lead us down,” Zoey motioned toward the bridge, relaying the information she had gathered on the internet after she finally gave up on organizing her pens for the billionth that morning.

“Or we could jump. People do it all the time. This is actually the official jumping off point.” She gave a nonchalant shrug, feigning confidence she certainly didn’t feel at the present time. Zoey wasn’t a person who normally flung herself off of cliffs, but she _was_ a person with a theory she wanted to test. Would Max jump with her into the unknown, take a literal leap of faith? There was some figurative meaning hidden (or maybe _not so hidden_ ) in that theory. “We could do it together.”

Max raked a hand through his hair, nervously peering over the edge of the cliff again. “Are you sure it’s safe? How deep is the water? What if we impale ourselves on a rock? Or hit a branch on the way down? I don’t _see_ any branches, but you never know...”

Stepping closer to him, she cupped her hand over his shoulder. “Max, relax. We don’t have to jump, it’s fine. We’ll just follow the path down. Easy breezy,” she placated and he met her gaze, searching her eyes a moment before he set his jaw in determination. “No, let’s do it.”

Kicking off his shoes, he began yanking his shirt over his head and Zoey grinned before shedding her clothes as well. She couldn’t prevent the tiny snort of laughter that escaped through her nose at the way they both were trying (and _failing_ ) not to stare at all the skin that was now exposed. Rather quickly, she gave up the pretense altogether and just let her eyes roam shamelessly over his body in very obvious appreciation.

He didn’t look like a man who had no idea what he was doing with his life. In fact, she was certain his sole purpose in life was to render her speechless and cause her brain to short circuit because _holy shit_ , he was _hot._

As they made their way to the edge, her hand shot out to grab his, her grip firm and unyielding.

“Zoey, you’re shaking.”

She nodded briskly, swallowing heavily. “Yeah, I’m terrified.” And plunging into the water was definitely not the _only_ reason she was scared out of her mind. Her rapidly developing _feelings_ for the person beside her also struck fear into her heart, almost paralyzed by that fear from the sheer intensity of those feelings.

“Then why are we doing this?” he asked incredulously, but she didn’t answer, just squeezed his hand even tighter. “Ready?” she asked, meeting his eyes to share a quick, affirmative look.

And then they jumped.

* * *

“So, I was kinda surprised you wanted to hang out again. After, uh...after last night,” Max admitted a couple minutes later, treading water with ease.

“ _Oh_ ,” Zoey exhaled a harsh breath, looking around and swimming a short distance away so that her feet could touch the ground. She never claimed to be a professional swimmer and her arms were already _so tired_. “Yeah, I was just thinking about what makes me happy and getting to know you makes me happy, so...” She tried to sound casual, but her stomach was doing somersaults. It seemed her body was never getting any rest today, huh? 

A smile stretched across his face and Max swam over to join her in the shallow water, his head slowly rotating around to take in the beauty of their surroundings as he responded, “Well, we should do more of that, then.”

Zoey nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the rivulets of water trickling down through the hair on his chest.

“I wanted to, you know,” her voice came out soft, barely audible as she inched her way closer, heartbeat pounding in her ears.

His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Wanted to what?” He peered down at her, running his fingers through his slick brown locks, sending droplets of water cascading around him.

Standing right in front of him now, she decided to be brazen, to _show_ Max exactly what she wanted by bracing her palms against his chest and lifting up on her toes to meet his mouth in a kiss. A soft sound of surprise came from the back of his throat, but he hardly hesitated before he kissed her back, his lips moving slow and smooth against her own, his thumb tenderly brushing along the curve of her cheek, his other hand hovering near her hip. She sighed deeply into his mouth.

Kissing Max felt like coming home.

That feeling of walking through the door and being instantly embraced by that familiar warmth and comfort, knowing there’s not a single place in the world quite like it, and with the assurance that there’s no place she’d rather be. 

When they pulled apart, Max’s eyes were lidded and unfocused, his lips slightly parted and he breathed out just one word that summed up her thoughts exactly. 

“ _Whoa_.”

Zoey’s tongue flicked out to wet her lips, the two of them staring at each other for a long, significant moment before they came crashing together again, with far more passion and urgency this time.

Max’s fingers tangled in her hair and his other hand skimmed around to the small of her back to bring her closer, pressing their bodies tight together, an action that drew a faint gasp from her throat and... _oh, okay_ , she would like to make an amendment to her previous statement.

Because while yes, kissing Max felt like coming home, it also felt like every nerve ending was set on fire, his touch searing her skin, her body flushing with heat and desire. Zoey shuddered beneath his fingertips, tugging him impossibly closer as she let herself be engulfed by the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for some Zoey pov!


	8. The One Where Things Go (Slightly) Wrong

Driving back to the resort, after spending the entire afternoon hiking, jumping off cliffs, swimming, and _kissing_ , Max was not ready to let Zoey go just yet.

He had no idea what she wanted out of...whatever was happening between them. Last night, she told him that she didn’t want to complicate things and Max had understood, with the knowledge of his departure date looming overhead, how could he begrudge her for not wanting to hookup with someone who was inevitably going to be _leaving on a jet plane?_ Especially when that someone was weighted down with so much emotional baggage.

But today, _she_ was the one who had reached out to _him_ , asked him to hang out, and admitted that getting to know him made her happy. And then she had _kissed him_. If Max was being honest, he was still very much lost in the memory of that kiss and the way she had felt wrapped inside his arms.

However, he couldn’t escape the fear and doubt that clouded his mind, along with the many, _many_ , questions he was aching to ask. But for now, he crammed them into a far corner of his brain to deal with later and settled on asking just one question that was at the forefront of his mind. “Would you like to grab dinner?”

“ _God yes_ ,” she exclaimed, her eyes briefly darting over to meet his, aglow with eagerness at that suggestion, “I’m starving!” She returned her attention on the road, chewing on her bottom lip. “Are you sure you want to be seen with me in public right now, though? Looking like this?” Lifting her right hand off the steering wheel, she did a quick sweeping motion around her face.

Max glanced over, drinking in the sight of her copper hair, which was now mostly dry, but it was a tangled mass of curls and had doubled in volume since he first laid eyes on her that afternoon. Her face, free of makeup, held the glossy sheen of sunscreen and there were streaks of white near her hairline where the sunscreen hadn’t been completely rubbed in after her generous reapplication right before they began their trek back down to the car. ‘ _I don’t stay this pale by accident_ ,’ she had said as she slathered on her second layer of protection, looking like a horror villain with her face a mask of white.

But what stuck out to him more than her appearance was all the subtle differences he noticed in Zoey now compared to that first night at the hotel bar. She no longer seemed quite so caged inside her mind and with less melancholy etched into the lines of her face and hidden behind her eyes. He felt like he was bearing witness to someone who was slowly rediscovering the joy of life. And he felt like he was finding that joy again, too, right alongside her. 

“I’m sure,” he affirmed, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I think you look perfect.”

* * *

“We’re here,” Zoey announced as she pulled the key from the ignition, releasing her seatbelt and opening the door to climb out of her light blue Ford Focus. Max followed suit, joining her at the rear of the car.

 _Here_ was a lineup of more than a dozen food trucks, crowds of people, and a large covered seating area with rows of picnic tables.

“Okay, before we get started, there’s a few rules I need to go over with you,” Zoey said as they fell into step beside each other.

Max threw her a look of amused disbelief. “Wait, there’s _rules?_ What are they? And what happens if I break one?”

“Oh,” Zoey hooked her arm around his, using her other hand to lightly pat his bicep as she grinned up at him. “You don’t want to find out.”

“Rule number one!” She held up a finger, “is that we can only order _one_ item from each food truck.” They came to a halt behind a couple in line at the first stand they approached. “And rule number two,” Zoey raised a second finger, “is that we share that item between the _two_ of us.” She pointed at Max and then herself, a cheeky, self-satisfied smile lighting up her face.

Max playfully nudged his shoulder against hers as he agreed to those terms, thinking that Zoey was kind of a dork and that he kind of liked it.

After procuring their first round of food, hot and spicy shrimp from the first truck, brisket sliders from the next, they snagged an empty table and wasted no time piling the food into their mouths.

“So,” Zoey began, her arm reaching across the table to pluck a shrimp from the checkered basket in front of him, “any idea what you’ll do once you get back to San Francisco?” She popped it into her mouth, regarding him with interest as she awaited his response.

“Actually, _yeah_ ,” he confessed, his voice growing animated as a bubble of enthusiasm rose in his chest. “This morning before you called, I was sitting outside, thinking about the future and how I’d maybe like to start my own business, or I could do some freelance coding.”

“What kind of business were you thinking?” she asked as he bit into a slider.

Chewing quickly, he swallowed and swiped at the glob of barbecue sauce he could feel on his chin. “I haven’t made it quite that far yet.” He gave her a sheepish look. “I never thought I’d be starting over at this point in my life, but I’m...” he trailed off for a second as he searched for the right word, “ _excited_ , I think, about diving into the unknown, trying something new, doing what makes me happy.”

An expression of incredulity briefly flitted across her face. “ _Yeah_ ,” she breathed out the word softly, a hint of wonder in her voice as she stared at him, looking like she had just reached some profound conclusion. Then, she gave a slight shake of her head and continued. “I mean, I know your life hasn’t turned out how you thought it would, and I’m sure moving forward it will be _different_ than you envisioned it, but maybe it will be...somehow even better?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, bobbing his head as he locked his eyes on her. “I think it will be better.” Cracking a smile, he added, “Definitely.”

Max thought the one thing that would make it perfect was if the woman sitting across from him right now was there beside him, but he hastily stuffed some shrimp into his mouth before it had a chance to betray him by saying something _that_ crazy and embarrassing, which would surely scare her off. And then he wondered how the hell he had fallen for Zoey so quickly, and what he was supposed to do about it now.

* * *

It wasn’t until after their fourth round of food that they were both finally feeling sated. Pushing away from the table with a contented sigh, Zoey announced it was time for dessert as she got to her feet, picking up their empty containers and depositing them in a waste bin before leading him to a nearby truck to order them a cup of pineapple soft serve.

Scouting out a bench that offered a view of the sunset, the sky vibrant hues of deep purple and pink, they plopped down next to each other, Zoey clutching tightly, almost reverently, onto the cup in her hands as Max made a cheesy (but _factual_ ) comment about how beautiful the view was while looking right at her.

“Yeah,” she murmured in distracted agreement, scooping up the ice cream and bringing it to her mouth, eyes fluttering closed as she emitted a soft moan of delight. It was an innocent reaction from Zoey, but it set off a rush of not-so-innocent thoughts for Max with the memory of their kiss still fresh on his mind.

He audibly swallowed and averted his gaze, battling against the sudden, overwhelming desire to learn how else to draw out those little sounds of pleasure. He forced his mind to think about something else, _anything else_ , that wasn’t the way her tongue had felt skimming along the seam of his lips, her chest pressed enticingly up against his own as she trailed her fingers down his back, her nails just lightly grazing—

“Would you like a taste?” Zoey asked, slicing through his thoughts, although the way her voice came out low and breathless did little to ease his current predicament. In fact, it only served to heighten the problem as his body temperature felt like it had just spiked a fever, the ache of desire building.

When he met her eyes, however, he was pleased to note they held a dark fire of their own and his gaze drifted down to her mouth, thinking ‘ _yes, I’d love a taste_ ’ before his knuckles were brushing along the hollow of her throat, eliciting a gasp from Zoey. Sliding up to cup her jaw, he gently tilted her head as he leaned in, his eyes wandering back up to search hers, but instead he found them getting caught on a familiar form standing just behind her.

Abruptly dropping his hand and pulling back with a start, he vaguely registered the confusion and hurt as it flickered across her face, but then her head turned to follow his stare and recognition dawned. “Ah, _crap_ ,” she blanched, ducking her head and becoming _super_ intrigued by the cup in her hands, swirling the spoon around the melting mound of pineapple ice cream.

“Hey, Max.”

It was Autumn. _Of course it was Autumn_ , being flanked by Tobin, Leif, and the Harry Styles lookalike (Aiden? Was that what Zoey had called him?)

She had mentioned on their hike earlier about her encounter with the foursome last night when she arrived home, and at the time he had been a little weirded out by it, but mostly he didn’t care. It was hard to care about that developing friendship when he had Zoey beside him as he dragged himself up what felt like a never-ending mountain.

Now, however? Interrupting his time with Zoey? He did care about that.

Right as he was about to halfheartedly echo her greeting, something in her face gave him pause. He’d been with Autumn five years, during which time he had grown adept at recognizing her range of facial expressions and the emotions conveyed within her eyes, so he very easily identified the fleeting flare of jealousy as her eyes darted between him and Zoey. What he _didn’t_ know was what to make of it or how to deal with that information, but the clashing emotions he was suddenly bombarded with caused his stomach to churn with unease.

Aiden began talking before he could dissect his feelings any further. “You guys up for a game of beach volleyball? We need two more players.”

Zoey scrunched up her face. “I would prefer not to,” she spoke plainly.

Aiden rolled his eyes. “Okay, Bartleby,” he retorted, which resulted in Zoey sticking out her tongue before a half smirk appeared on her face. “You don’t even need six players for beach volleyball,” she pointed out.

“It’s called playing for _fun_ , Zo, we’re not entering into a tournament. And a bunch of people from work want to play and they already got their team of six,” he countered. “ _Please?_ ” Aiden implored. “I’ll drop off another one of my extra special coffee concoctions for you tomorrow morning.”

She shot him a smug smile as she cocked her head. “You’ll do that anyway.”

“You sure about that?” 

The two leveled their stares at each other for a long moment before Leif chimed in with a little wave of his hand. “Hey, remember how I suffered through Harry Potter for you? You owe me, Clarke.”

Her mouth swung open. “Excuse me, _suffered?_ ” she spat out, her eyes going wide and flashing with indignation. “You loved it! And I know for a fact that you own a pair of Slytherin underwear!”

Leif faltered, looking perplexed as his eyebrows came together. “What the fuck? Why are you going through my underwear?”

“ _Believe me_ , it wasn’t on purpose!” She jabbed a finger toward him. “ _You’re_ the one who never takes your clothes out of the dryer in a timely fashion. I’ve seen a lot of things I wish I could burn from my memory, _Donnelly_.”

* * *

Somehow, they ended up playing beach volleyball, where Max soon discovered that Zoey was _extremely_ competitive.

He was so absorbed in watching Zoey and the way her face screwed up in concentration, her eyes intently tracking the ball as she moved with purpose, that he was oblivious to all the glances Autumn kept shooting in his direction.

When Zoey threw her head back laughing at whatever Leif just said, he smiled at the sound and felt what was now becoming a familiar surge of affection filling up his chest. Distracted, he didn’t see Autumn barreling toward him until it was too late and they came crashing to the ground.

With a grunt of surprise, his arm instinctively went to wrap around her waist, her hair covering his face as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Mumbling an apology, she peered down at him with an unexpected softness in her eyes that made his brain stutter to halt as a barrage of memories flooded his mind of all the times she had regarded him with that exact look, like when she first told Max she loved him at that vineyard in Napa.

Blinking deliberately as he slowly regained the ability to think, he attempted to decipher the implications behind whatever _that look_ meant. “W-wha...?” he sputtered and shook his head in confusion, his voice hoarse as he tried to make sense of his conflicting emotions, but when he felt a set of eyes on him, he abandoned that train of thought and glanced over at Zoey who wore an expression that made his heart deflate.

It was then that he began to acknowledge his rather compromising position, practically being straddled by his ex-girlfriend paired with the fact that he hadn’t immediately extracted himself from the embrace. It definitely didn’t look _great._

Gingerly, he disentangled himself from Autumn and got to his feet, quickly dusting off the sand that was clinging to his shorts before seeking out Zoey to convey a message of reassurance, afraid she had gotten the wrong impression.

However, when he tried to make eye contact, he soon realized she was actively avoiding his gaze, her face drawn tight and hands curled into loose fists, swinging at her sides.

And then Max was thrust back into the game, leaving him no choice but to play with a knot in his stomach.

* * *

Later, parked in front of the hotel, the air between them felt fragile and Max grappled for the right words to say, his throat as rough as sandpaper.

His earlier concerns and doubts had returned with alarming intensity, along with the feeling that Zoey was slipping away from him, even though he knew deep down that he never held any real claim to her heart. 

Trapped in a whirlwind of emotions by his own design and with the knowledge that he didn’t have a clue as to what Zoey’s feelings were, one thing he did know were his own. Yet he remained torn between his desire to tell her how he felt and his fear of being rejected.

Because how could he even begin to comprehensively explain the way she made him feel? That this feeling, it was what he had spent his entire life searching for. The way she listened attentively to him, like every word, every thought, every feeling he had actually mattered to her, as though she truly cared to know every little thing about him, even the broken parts he kept hidden from the rest of the world, and how when he was with her, those broken parts didn’t feel quite so damning.

And when they kissed, it felt like all the scattered pieces of his life had fallen so seamlessly into place, forming one perfect and complete picture, a vision which included the very woman standing there before him. How could he tell Zoey that without having her think he was _out of his damn mind?_ For feeling that way after only three days? Maybe he _was_ out of his damn mind.

To her, the kiss had probably been _just a kiss_.

His heart constricted, but he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again, so once again, he decided to toss his worries aside and go after what he wanted, his fear of losing out on what little time he had left with Zoey far outweighing any of his other concerns.

Swallowing hard in an attempt to alleviate some of the dryness in his throat, he turned to her with his hands folded nervously across his lap. “Would it be alright if I take you out tomorrow night, like on a...on a proper date?”

He could see the indecision swirling in her eyes, her mouth twisting off to the side, but after an agonizingly long stretch of silence, she answered with a faint nod. “Okay,” her voice was quiet as she offered him a tentative smile. “I get off at four.”


	9. The One Where Conversations Are Had, Except Between The Two That Need To Have A Conversation

Much to Max’s dismay, the same feeling that crawled into bed with him last night, the general sensation that something felt _off_ , was still lingering in the pit of his stomach when he awoke to the soft, early morning light pouring in through the window.

As he groggily blinked the sleep from his eyes, he swung an arm out toward the nightstand, fumbling a few seconds until his hand closed around his phone. 

Squinting at the screen, he quickly unlocked it, pulled up his recent call log, and after a brief moment of hesitation, pressed on Mo’s name.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.” Mo’s face came into view and Max propped himself into a sitting position, digging a palm into his eye as he emitted a sleepy chuckle. “Never,” he promised. A beat of silence passed. “I am in need of your great wisdom and insight, though.”

Mo blew out a sigh of frustration. “Why is it always ‘Mo, help me! Help me, please! I am incapable of solving my own problems’ and never ‘Mo, how was your date the other day?’”

“What?” Max smiled, sitting up straighter with interest as the last of his grogginess fell away. “You had a date? How was it?”

Grinning, Mo tossed his hair over his shoulder. “Well, it’s been two days and he’s still here, so you tell me.”

Max raised his eyebrows. “Wow, guess I really _do_ need to start looking for an apartment as soon as I get back, huh?” There was a mark of teasing in his tone, but he moved ‘apartment search’ to the very top of his mental To-Do List.

“Oh, it’s not that serious,” Mo replied flippantly. “But yes, you need to leave. For both of our sanities.” Waving a hand at him, Mo swapped the focus back on Max. “Okay, I’m ready for your thing now.”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Max looked off to the side as he sucked in a fortifying breath. “So, you were right...” he trailed off, listening as Mo gave a self-satisfied hum. He glanced back at the screen to where an expectant expression awaited him. “I do have a crush on the cute check-in lady. We kind of...hooked up,” he confessed.

“ _Oh?_ ” Mo inflated, eyebrows raising.

“Well, we kissed.”

“Oh,” Mo deflated with a frown.

Rolling his eyes, Max ignored Mo’s obvious disappointment that he didn’t have some salacious tale to divulge. “And I don’t know what to do about it. I think I have real feelings for this woman. For Zoey.”

“Have you considered telling her how you feel?”

His eyes skittered up to the ceiling, holding there a moment before settling back on Mo. “...No,” he admitted sheepishly before releasing a deep sigh. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“What if she does?” Mo countered, shooting him a look. “You know how I feel about ‘what ifs.’ They’re pointless.”

Shaking his head, he mashed his lips together before bringing up what else had been on his mind. “There was also this weird moment with Autumn yesterday, that I—”

“Maxwell,” Mo sharply cut him off, without bothering to temper the judgement in his expression or the irritation in his voice. “Why are we still talking about Autumn? The Book of Autumn is _over._ You need to take that book and burn it. I’m done hearing about it, okay? I read it, I hated it, I’ve moved on. You should try it.”

Biting back the response he wanted to give, Max muttered a resigned ‘okay’ and the conversation ended soon after that, with Max promising to make smart choices.

He slumped his way down until he was laying on his back, fingers threaded together and resting on his stomach as he looked toward the ceiling for answers.

And still, the solid presence of foreboding in his gut remained.

* * *

In hindsight, drinking her body weight in espresso probably wasn’t the _smartest_ decision Zoey had made that morning. Even before she gulped down the nonfat latte with five shots in record time, she was feeling anxious and jittery and like an _utter fool._

There was a very sound and logical reason she avoided dating and relationships — it never failed to end in disaster. What was the point of subjecting herself to the exciting, but _fleeting_ , period of infatuation and joy when she knew it was only ever destined to end in heartache?

Honestly, shame on her for believing that whatever was happening between her and Max would somehow be different, that _he_ was somehow different. It was the same damn song, the same fucking dance.

So, _why the hell_ had she agreed to see him again?

Bracing her arms on the desk, she tucked her chin down and let her eyelids slam shut at the memory of how he had looked at Autumn last night. Then, she squeezed them tighter when she remembered how Max had stared at _her_ just mere hours prior, like she meant something to him, like she was something special.

 _Especially stupid,_ maybe.

When she felt the hot sting of tears burning behind her eyes, she released a hand and roughly swiped at her traitorous eyes, gritting her teeth. She was not going to let this affect her, to cry over losing something that she never even had to begin with. Jesus, how pathetic was she?

And _oh god_ , to think she had actually been entertaining the idea of moving back to San Fran—

Nope.

She jostled that idea right out of her head. Just catapulted it so far and forcibly away from her orbit of rationality that it’d never be able to catch onto some stupid speck of hope and come whizzing back around someday to throw her world into yet another tailspin. 

Glancing up, her stomach flip flopped at the sight of Autumn approaching the front desk, with no Tobin trailing behind her, and she could only assume that her purpose for visiting was to order Zoey to stay away from Max.

With her hands still gripping onto the edge of the desk, she hastened to rearrange her features back into customer service mode. Artificial voice, contrived smile. “Good morning, Autumn.” Despite the fact she instructed her mouth to form a smile, she had her suspicions it looked more like a grimace and she relaxed her hold on the desk, although just barely. “Need help with something?”

“Hi, Zoey. I was wondering if there are any good sushi spots nearby? Tobin’s out surfing with Leif, so I’ve got some time to myself and a craving to curb.” She shifted on her feet and expelled a light laugh, one that held an underlying note of nervousness. Zoey could sense the direction this interaction was headed, could feel her heart picking up its pace in anticipatory dread.

“Yeah, there’s a great place like three minutes away, our shuttle driver will be happy to take you. Let me grab you a menu real quick, just so you can decide if it’s what you’re looking for.”

Focusing on the task at hand, Zoey rifled through the folders on her desk until she found the one that housed the menus for all the restaurants in the vicinity. With trembling fingers, she leafed through the stack as Autumn took a half step closer and even though she wasn’t looking at Autumn, she could _feel_ the way her eyes were sweeping over her in appraisal, almost like she was sizing up the competition. _Ha!_ As if Zoey could even be considered a real threat...

“So, I noticed that you’ve been spending a lot of time with Max.”

_And there it is._

Not trusting herself to speak, Zoey nodded and gave an affirmative ‘mhm’ as she continued to search for the menu.

“I’m sure you’ve already gathered by now, but he’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Zoey froze, then stopped what she was doing to peer at Autumn with wide eyes, jerking her hands out in front of her. “Oh, don’t worry. No. I-I’m not, I mean, it’s not like that. At all.” The words left in a rush, simultaneously shaking her hands and her head in a frenzy, and then she struggled to swallow around the lump that had rapidly welled in her throat. “I don’t date people that don’t live here. Or in general. It’s been years since I’ve even been in a relationship. Not that that matters, or anything.”

Her heart was practically buzzing in her chest, no doubt faster than a hummingbird’s 1,260 beats per minute, which was a _fun(?)_ bird fact she had learned from Leif (although why was she recalling that specific information now?). Confrontation had always been her _least_ favorite thing and her current level of anxiety had her wondering if she was on the verge of a panic attack.

“No, no,” Autumn pacified, but it did nothing to quell her worries or calm her expeditious heart. “I just wanted to say thank you for keeping him company. You seem nice and Max is...he’s a really good guy,” she admitted earnestly, her expression kind. “He’s great, actually,” she added in a much softer voice and Zoey might not be the most emotionally intelligent, but she knew what this meant.

If she hadn’t _already_ descended upon this conclusion, well, it was certain to be just a short matter of time until Autumn realized what a harrowing mistake she had made by breaking up with Max, until she asked him to take her back.

And how could Zoey measure up to her, anyway? Yesterday on the beach, she had been _painfully aware_ of what a frizzy, sweaty, unkempt mess she was when placed next to Autumn. 

Autumn, with her silky blonde hair piled into a perfect ponytail and dressed in a cute, matching tie-dye ensemble that Zoey could never pull off. Her movements lithe and graceful whereas Zoey was like a bull in a goddamn china shop.

Not to mention their five years of shared history. A few days with Zoey and one kiss was surely no match for that.

“Here’s that menu,” Zoey stated meekly, sliding it across the desk as she took in Autumn’s answering smile of gratitude. “Enzo’s right out front, so when you’re ready to get your sushi on, just head through those glass doors.”

Once Autumn left, Zoey slumped forward with elbows on the desk and chin cupped in her hands as she considered her options, her mind in competition against her heart, vying for the title of which one can race the fastest.

From a logical standpoint, she knew there was only one way this situation with Max was going to end, even without factoring Autumn into the equation.

Scraping her teeth along her bottom lip, she made her decision. With her mind now firmly set on canceling their date, Zoey grabbed the phone and dialed Max’s room. When he didn’t pick up, she resolved to try again later.

Because what other choice did she have?

* * *

After spending the greater part of the morning and early afternoon surfing ( _ahem_ , attempting to surf), Max was back in his room, having just finished rinsing the salt and sand from his body.

Leif had been surprised to see him again, but not as surprised as Max had been when Tobin showed up a few minutes later.

At that point, he almost hightailed it right on back to the resort, but instead announced his desire to actually stand up on the board before he left, just to prove to himself that he could.

Leif said he wasn’t ready, Max repeated his request with more gusto, and Leif had acquiesced, leading both him and Tobin to the water where Max eventually had managed to stay upright a total of four seconds before getting reacquainted with his old buddy, the ocean.

He counted it as a win.

A series of tepid knocks on the door pulled him from his thoughts and with swift, agile fingers, he fastened the remaining buttons on his light blue shirt as he crossed the room to answer it.

Swinging the door open, his face immediately contorted in surprise, mouth hanging slightly ajar when he saw who was standing before him. “Autumn?”

She raised her hand in a tentative wave. “May I come in?” she asked timidly. 

“Uh...” he hesitated, rubbing briefly at the back of his neck before letting his arm fall limp at his side, the other still being used to prop open the door. “Sure.” He took a step back, allowing her space to enter. 

Awkward silence encased the room the moment the door clicked shut, and while (attempting to surf) had offered a welcome reprieve from the sensation of dread pooled low in his stomach, the feeling going stagnant, it now began swirling once more.

In an effort to bring about some semblance of normalcy, Max led her over to the turquoise sofa, gesturing for her to take a seat as he rocked back on his heels. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?” _Whiskey?_ he added internally, thinking he could use some right about now.

Autumn declined with a subtle shake of her head and Max sank down in the armchair across from her, lightly tapping his fingertips together while he waited for her to speak. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.

“I came here to apologize for how I ended things between us. I don’t think I ever gave you a proper explanation and you deserve to know the truth.”

He stopped tapping, eyebrows drawing together. “I mean, wasn’t Tobin the reason?” he inquired, extending an arm toward her. “You reconnected with him and realized how happy he made you?”

Autumn gave him a sad smile, her fingers toying with a tassel on one of the throw pillows. “I was thinking about ending our relationship months before I ran into Tobin.”

Shaking his head slowly, he threw her a questioning look, resting his palms on his knees as he leaned forward. “I don’t understand. If it wasn’t because of Tobin, then...then why...?” 

“Max, even before you lost your job, it felt like you had given up on yourself. You were always so unhappy and withdrawn. I felt like, no matter what I said, I just couldn’t get through to you. And I know it was selfish of me, but I didn’t want to be dragged down with you,” she confessed.

Well, let it be known that whoever said the truth hurts was not a liar. Casting his eyes down, he fixed his gaze on a nice spot between two floorboards as his chest tightened in response to her admission. He felt hurt and a little angry, not at Autumn, but himself. For digging himself so far down into his own pit of despair that he could no longer see the light, only oppressive darkness.

It was not the way he wanted to live.

Swallowing hard, he gave an imperceptible nod of his head, acknowledging the absorption of her words and the truth they contained.

“But last night, you were so happy, I felt like I was getting a glimpse at the Max I fell in love with,” she spoke ardently, and when Max shifted his stare to catch her eye, she was giving him that soft look again, full of fondness that made his heart constrict, but in a different way than it once had. “I don’t want you to misinterpret what I’m saying. This isn’t me saying I want to get back together or anything of that nature. I just like seeing you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

The tightness in his chest lessened and he released a heavy, shuddering breath. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, too,” he rasped, then cleared his throat.

Tilting her head, she gave him a small smile. “I know, Max.” In a quiet voice, she continued. “You have a tendency to put other people first, their wants, their needs, even if it makes you miserable. Don’t be afraid to go after what you want, to ask for what you need. Sometimes...it felt like you thought you weren’t deserving of happiness, _but you are_ , so let yourself be happy.”

A moment passed between them, unbroken by words. Max thought back to his first night in Hawaii, at the hotel bar with Simon, when the man spoke of his failed relationship and the desire of being happier. While he and Autumn had been happy together, or at least, happy _enough_ , their relationship had left them both unfulfilled, both wanting something the other could never give.

Soon thereafter, with nothing more that needed to be said, Max found himself walking Autumn to the door. She paused just outside the doorway, pivoting and glancing up to make eye contact with him. “Maybe this is a little weird of me to say and maybe I’m misreading the situation, but I think...I think Zoey can give you what I never could.”

 _Is she a mind reader?_ he mused, baffled, as she turned and left him with those words dancing around his head.

Closing the door after her, a sense of peace settled in his heart, yet he remained disconcerted by the feeling of foreboding that was still taking up residence in his gut.

His thoughts wandered to Zoey and how, in just a few days, she had prodded through his defenses and opened him up, made him vulnerable in a way he had never managed to be with Autumn. It terrified him just as equally as it amazed him.

Fears be damned, he fully intended to tell Zoey how he felt when he saw her later. If he didn’t, he knew he’d be haunted by regret. And maybe that explained the current feeling in his stomach? The thought of leaving here without being honest with her, of letting happiness slip through his fingers like sand.

When the phone rang, he smiled. There was only one person it could be, the very woman consuming his thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Max? It’s Zoey.”

Still smiling, he leaned casually against the wall, phone pressed to his ear. “Hey, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

A long stretch of silence passed and Max wondered if the call had been dropped. “Zoey?”

“Sorry, I’m still here.” Her voice sounded strained and there was another beat of silence, long enough for his stomach to start twisting with dread, the same dread that formed last night on the beach and had shadowed him all day. “Um, I was just calling because I changed my mind about tonight. I think it’s probably for the best if we don’t see each other again.”

The call disconnected before Max could even begin to process what the hell had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol @ me thinking I was gonna write something straight up fluffy and cute (once I moved past the whole breakup part, of course) but here I am, making them suffer 😈


	10. The One With One Last Dance

Moving as if he was in a trance, Max slowly pulled the phone away from his ear and returned it to its cradle, lowering himself onto the bed and dejectedly rubbing his palms down his face before letting them fall to rest on his thighs.

He had just resolved to tell Zoey how he felt and now it seemed like he’d never get the chance, resigned to carry the cherished memories of their time together tucked away into a corner of his heart, always wondering what could have been and plagued by feelings of regret.

The very thought gnawed at him, and he knew then that he couldn’t let this go, couldn’t go back to being a bystander of his life, watching it play out from the sidelines and being left unfulfilled by how the events panned out.

The last few days he had proved to himself that he could be bold and take chances, he had willingly _jumped off a cliff_ because Zoey asked him to. Maybe that made him a fool, relinquishing his trust over to her so easily, and maybe she didn’t feel the same way and she’d tell him to go take a hike, but at least he could leave with the assurance that he had _tried_.

So, with no time left to waste, he gave the tops of his thighs a decisive pat, clambered onto his feet, slipped into his shoes, and went to take one last chance.

* * *

In his haste to find Zoey before she left for the day, he stumbled to a halt once he caught sight of her, breathing out a quick sigh of relief before prompting his feet into action once more and approaching the desk.

With her head turned toward the windows, staring out at the ocean with unfocused eyes, she didn’t notice him standing there as she idly twisted a ring around her finger. He regarded her a few moments before interrupting her quiet contemplation by softly calling out her name.

Startled, her head snapped in his direction, eyes widening in shock. “Max? W-what are you...?” She shook her head slightly in confusion and then seemed to compose herself, adopting a more measured tone as she asked, “Did you need help with something?”

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping you could help me understand why you changed your mind about tonight?” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts, he winced at how that sounded and hastened to add, “Not that you owe me an explanation, of course.”

Zoey looked dumbfounded, her lips parting as if she was uncertain how to proceed. Her gaze jumped back toward the ocean, searching the water like it contained the words she couldn’t seem to find, before returning to catch his eye. “Oh, it’s just... _you know_ ,” she said pointedly, jutting her hand out at him with emphasis, although Max was at a loss as to what exactly she was trying to emphasize or convey. His confusion must have obvious because she continued. “I mean, with Autumn and everything,” she attempted to clarify with a noncommittal shrug and a knowing look.

Max furrowed his eyebrows as he puzzled over her words. “Autumn? What about Autumn?” The crease between his brows vanished as a thought occurred to him, his eyebrows raising in understanding instead. “ _Ohh_...is this about her coming to my room? Did she ask you where to find me?”

Zoey tilted her head, looking surprised at first, then pained. Max didn’t know what to make of her oscillating emotions. “She came to your room?” she inquired evenly, though her troubled expression remained in place.

“Yeah,” he nodded, stepping closer as he pulled his hands free from his pockets to brace his forearms on the desk, leaning forward and wishing there was no barrier impeding him from reaching for her. “She wanted to talk about our breakup, said there was still some stuff she needed me to know,” he relayed, watching as Zoey’s shoulders sagged, though he couldn’t discern whether it was from relief or resignation. Or some other reason entirely. “Actually, I’m glad she stopped by,” he admitted as he sought to assuage any misgivings she might be having. “It was just the conversation I needed to make me aware of what I really want.” Peering down at her, a soft and easy smile found its way across his face.

“And you guys are getting back together,” she ventured quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor.

Max reared his head back as those words hit him like a blow to the face. “What? No!” he asserted. “I don’t want to get back together with Autumn, that’s the absolute last thing I want. I want—” He stopped himself just short of saying ‘ _you_ ,’ panicking and rapidly trying to backpedal. 

While he was desperate to tell her of his feelings, the middle of the lobby was not the ideal location he had in mind for his declaration. Although, if left with no other option, he supposed it would have to suffice.

Fidgeting with his hands, he blew out an unsteady breath before gathering all the courage he could muster so his voice was unwavering when he spoke. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Max confessed, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air as Zoey’s breath hitched in her throat. “And I know I’m leaving tomorrow, but I just...” he paused, throwing her an ardent look. “When I think about how I want to spend my last night here, I only want to spend it with you.”

Again, Zoey appeared astounded and there was a mask of doubt clouding her expression as she searched his eyes for sincerity. Max swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under the heat of her penetrating gaze, wondering if she could see right into his heart, and then wondering if her prolonged silence meant she was carefully crafting a way to let him down easy because she didn’t feel the same way. 

When it felt like a lifetime had passed, she nodded slowly with pursed lips before flashing him a fleeting grin. “Let me just go home and change, then I’ll come find you, okay?”

A relieved smile broke out across his face. “Okay, great,” he responded, feeling very much like he was suffering from emotional whiplash.

* * *

When he swung open the door to his room a short while later, every ounce of air in his lungs seemed to have left him at once, his heart erupting into a fluttering mess inside his chest.

Standing there in a floral wrap dress with her hair cascading in soft waves that framed her face was Zoey, looking like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, like everything he had ever wanted and somehow even so much more than that.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed out once he could form the words and her answering blush filled him with warmth as he offered her an awestruck smile, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless.

Instead, he gathered his wits and his belongings, and then led her to have a candlelit dinner on the beach where he soon discovered that revealing the feelings of his heart was harder than he anticipated. 

And it was made especially more difficult when every time he managed to work up the nerve, the confession finally ready and poised to tumble forth from his mouth, the moment never failed to be interrupted. By the arrival of their food, by the waiter passing by asking about the quality of said food, by shrieks of joy from a marriage proposal happening just a few tables away.

All too soon, the check was deposited on the table and Max couldn’t recall a single word that had been uttered between the two of them, except that none of those words were the ones he was aching to say.

Berating himself for dawdling so long when their time together was rapidly dwindling, he paid the bill before sweeping her away from the bustle of the restaurant and onto the beach, close enough to still hear the soft notes of music lilting through the air.

Pivoting to face her, he asked with a lighthearted grin, “May I have this dance?” With an expectant tilt of his head, he outstretched an arm toward her.

With playful eyes, Zoey tapped her finger against her chin in a feigned display of serious consideration before making an elaborate show of placing her hand in his. Her little, drawn out sigh of concession faded into a mirthful and hearty laugh when he tugged her into a tight embrace the instant his hand closed around hers.

Resting one hand snug against her waist, the other intertwined with hers and held aloft, the two of them began swaying in time to the music, rotating slowly as their eyes maintained a comfortable gaze.

“Just to warn you, I’m not _the best_ dancer...” Zoey cautioned, her eyes twinkling in the warm evening glow.

Max grinned down at her. “Yeah, I figured as much. What with your moves at karaoke the other night,” he explained, teasing her a bit. “Don’t worry, you’re tiny, I think my feet can handle getting stomped on by a hobbit.”

Amused, he watched as her mouth dropped open in mock affront, squeezing his shoulder in retaliation. “I’ll have you know, my feet are practically hairless,” she responded solemnly, but the corners of her mouth twitched as she fought back a smile. 

“Good to know,” he chuckled, sliding the hand on her waist until it reached the small of her back, their bodies shifting a fraction closer as they settled into companionable silence with matching smiles playing upon their lips.

“I wish I wasn’t leaving tomorrow, it feels like I just got here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly with a tinge of sadness in her tone, leaning into him, her head falling against his shoulder.

Content for the moment to just hold onto her like this, the two of them rocked slowly until they were no longer moving in sync with the music, until not even an inch of space separated them, their conjoined hands coming to rest against his chest.

It felt so familiar to Max, him and Zoey wrapped up in a tender embrace, slotted perfectly together like they had done this hundreds of thousands of times, like they had been here before. 

The earlier levity that had surrounded them began to warp, the air shifting and shrouding them in what felt like one of those significant moments in life, the palpable feeling that everything’s about to change, standing on the precipice, ready to fall or fly. He wondered how this situation would play out, and then he mused that there was only one way to find out.

“Can I tell you something?” he murmured into her hair, his fingers gently stroking her back over the smooth fabric of her dress, trailing along the curve of her spine.

He felt as she silently nodded for him to continue, her cheek firmly pressed right over his beating heart.

With his face still nestled against her hair, he took in a fortifying breath, breathing in the scent of her while his heart pounded rhythmically in his chest. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but Zoey, I feel like I’ve waited my entire life for you. Like every decision I’ve ever made, good or bad, it all led me to you.” His voice came out strained with emotion, but she hadn’t torn herself away from him, instead she gripped his hand tighter, giving him the strength to continue.

“For so long, I’ve walked around feeling like a part of me was missing, an emptiness that I couldn’t seem to fill and I wondered if maybe I’d always feel that way. But I don’t, not anymore. When I’m with you, everything makes sense, like this is exactly where I’m meant to be.”

“I feel the same way,” she whispered hoarsely into the crook of his neck, her body trembling beneath his hands as she expelled a shuddering breath. She pulled away, leaning back just far enough to tilt her chin up and regard with doleful eyes. “But it doesn’t change anything,” she said with an air of frustration, giving him a watery smile, one that threatened to splinter his recently repaired heart right back into two. 

“We both knew that whatever _this_ is always had an expiration date. Twenty four hours from now, you’ll be back home in San Francisco and I’ll still be right here,” she reasoned quietly, her voice cracking. “So, can we just not say anything else tonight? Just hold me and let this end with one last dance?” she implored him with desperation, her blue eyes glossy and pleading.

Even though that was the opposite of what he wanted, how could he not grant her request? He had vowed to tell her how he felt, regardless of the outcome, and he had fulfilled that promise by laying his heart out on the line, surrendering control over to Zoey to decide what happened next. And she chose to leave it hanging.

With that same heart now feeling like lead, he ruefully marveled at the ironic twist of fate, at how she was currently in his arms, so warm and perfect and _real_ , yet somehow still impossible for him to reach, apparently never meant to be anything more than this.

Swallowing any words of protest, he simply nodded his assent, flexing his fingers on her back as he tucked her in close to him once more, one final time. Zoey released a tremulous breath before burrowing her face back into his shoulder, her hand clutching at the back of his neck, her fingers idly stroking through his hair.

Dancing in the sand beneath the night sky scattered with stars and accompanied by the music from the restaurant playing softly in the background, Max began committing every detail to memory, so he’d always be able to recall the delicate scent of her lavender shampoo, the damp warmth of her breath caressing his skin, the way the wind blew wisps of her hair into his face, lightly tickling his cheeks. He never wanted to forget how it felt to hold everything he ever wanted inside his arms.

As the song neared its conclusion, Max mentally willed it to start playing on endless repeat, a loophole to keep Zoey with him, to prolong the inevitable. While that ingenious, but futile, notion crossed his mind, she tightened her hold on him, seeming equally as reluctant to let go.

A tiny spark of hope ignited, maybe this didn’t have to be the end?

* * *

Back in his room, alone, Max tried to make peace with the knowledge that he would, in fact, be resigned to hold the memories of his time with Zoey sealed away inside his heart. If there was a silver lining to the whole ordeal, it was that it would at least be without the subsequent anguish of regret.

Falling back onto the bed, he laced his fingers together and propped them behind his head, praying for sleep to overtake him, but knowing that given the events of the evening, the much sought after bliss of oblivion was almost certain to remain elusive.

Wistfully, he replayed those final moments with Zoey in his mind. True to her word, when the song reached its end, she had slipped free from his embrace, but not before taking both his hands in her own and lifting up on her toes to brush a featherlight kiss against his lips, his eyelids drifting shut when she gave his hands a gentle squeeze, and they remained closed when she released him just a single heartbeat later.

By the time he slowly blinked them open, she was gone, leaving him to wonder if the whole thing had somehow been a dream.

After several minutes elapsed of him laying there on the bed, his reverie was interrupted by a few hard knocks on the door and he bolted upright, scrambling to get on his feet as he let his imagination carry him across the room to answer it.

Maybe it was Zoey? Maybe she changed her mind? Maybe she wanted to see exactly how far this thing between them could go, after all? Maybe—

Max wrenched open the door.

And then deflated.

It was George.

“ _Heyyy_ ,” George drew out the word, his voice chipper as he pushed a cart into the room. “The hotel wanted me to stop by and deliver this. It’s definitely on behalf of the hotel and not from me because I feel sorry for you.”

Overcome with curiosity, Max raised an eyebrow before grabbing the handle and lifting the silver lid to reveal...an entire cheesecake? 

“Do you want some champagne with it, or is that too sad, drinking alone?” George asked brightly, his face hovering near Max’s shoulder, definitely a little too close for comfort.

Squirming away from the exuberant man, he peered down and fixed him with a wry smile before shrugging a shoulder. “I’ll take the champagne. Thank you, George.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” George gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Thank the _hotel._ They ordered me to come here.” 

Max paused, pressing his lips together with skepticism. “...Right,” he agreed slowly, choosing not to mention that he wasn’t technically a guest of the resort, which then begged the question, how the hell had George even known where to find him?

As Max attempted to unravel that mystery, George flitted about, placing the cheesecake on a nearby table and returned to extract a bottle of champagne from underneath the cart, which he promptly handed over to Max. “Here you go! Have a great night! _Byeee!_ ”

George flung open the door, bent forward to grip the edge of the cart, then wheeled his way backwards and out of sight.

Max stood frozen in place for one long moment, intensely confused.

* * *

He had just brought the fork speared with a piece of cheesecake to his mouth when there came another round of frenzied tapping on the door.

With an aggrieved sigh, Max let the fork clatter onto the plate and went to answer it, wondering what George could possibly be bringing him now. An emotional support animal? Jesus, if there was an actual dog on the other side of that door...

Pulling it open, his breath seized in his throat.

“Zoey?” Her name left his lips in a whisper of breathless wonderment.

Briefly, he considered reaching a hand out to touch her, to feel her solid warmth so he could determine if she was really there and not just a figment of his imagination, his wildest dream come to life and stood before him.

Instead, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

Zoey smiled nervously at him before bowing her head, clasping her hands behind her back as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t normally do things like this,” she confessed, casting her gaze down at the floor. “Actually, wait, let me rephrase that. Because saying I don’t normally do stuff like this implies that I have, _in fact_ , done something like this before,” she amended, her words spilling out in a flustered ramble as she shook her head. “And I have _never_ , once, in my entire life, _ever_ done anything _like this_ before.”

Perplexed, and perhaps a little hopeful, though he made an effort to keep himself tethered to reality, he moved closer and ducked his head in an attempt to see her face, trying to decipher her expression. “Like what?” he asked in an undertone, swallowing heavily.

When her eyes flicked up to meet his own, deep blue and wanting, her intent quickly became obvious and his body’s reaction was instantaneous, feeling the hot sizzle of anticipation as they moved in tandem, bridging the gap between them while their eyes stayed locked in a charged and searching gaze, making sure the other harbored no doubts about forging ahead with this particular course of action.

His heart jumpstarted when he detected another emotion, familiar yet undefined, lurking in the depths of her desire, but his mind was swept blank just a half second later when they made contact, now acting entirely on impulse. 

Throwing her arms around his neck, she gave a little hop and he caught her with ease, a sharp gasp escaping his throat when she squeezed her legs tight around his waist and rocked against him, her dress hitched up high around her thighs. Bracing one hand under the swell of her ass, the other cupped the back of her neck, sliding up to fist in her hair to pull her close as their mouths met in a searing kiss, the door slamming shut behind them.


	11. The One About Going Home And Coming Home

“What now?”

With her back pressed against his chest and her finger absently tracing patterns on his palm, Zoey prompted the question Max had been trying to bring up for the better part of ten minutes as their breathing returned to normal and the thin sheen of perspiration covering their bodies had cooled.

“I’m not sure,” he confessed in a low tone, and it was only partially a lie.

What he _wanted_ to happen next was stuff Zoey inside his duffel bag and take her on the plane with him back to San Francisco. Or he could, like, buy her a plane ticket instead. That would probably be the less creepy option.

But as much as he didn’t want to say goodbye, he also didn’t think he could just ask Zoey to uproot her entire life because he wanted her to.

Instead, he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder and murmured, “I don’t ever want this night to end. The thought of getting on that plane tomorrow to leave this place, to leave _you_ , it’s the last thing I want to do.”

Zoey was silent for a moment before he felt her stir, shifting under the arm that was draped across her stomach until they were face-to-face. “I wish things were different, too,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear, looking into his eyes. “How I feel about you, it doesn’t make sense.” Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she shook her head. “I mean, it’s just not _logical_.”

“What does that mean?” he asked quietly, his fingers splayed across her back, his heart rate quickening in anticipation as he recalled that flash of _something_ in her eyes earlier. He didn’t dare call it love, but some deeper emotion was hidden beyond the thin veil of lust.

But was it enough to sustain whatever came next for them? He could only hope that it was. That despite the distance that would soon separate them, somehow they could find a way to make it work, that _she_ wanted to make it work because Max knew where he stood on the matter. He had jumped off a cliff for her and he would dance on top of a car or walk a thousand miles if that was what he needed to do to prove that he was _all in_.

“Being with you these past few days, it’s been so easy. It feels like I’ve been with my best friend. And it freaks me out how much I care about you already and how badly I want to ask you to stay with me,” Zoey admitted, her eyes darting down as those words left her mouth, honing in on the spot where her fingers were toying with the curls on his chest. “I know that’s not exactly fair of me to say.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed before the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly into a soft, incredulous smile. “But if it makes you feel any better, I was also just thinking about how badly I want to fly you back home with me.”

She crinkled her nose as her eyes flitted back up to meet his, brimming with surprised amusement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, reaching a hand up to brush some wayward strands of hair away from her face with the back of his hand, his knuckles grazing along her cheek and lingering there. “And maybe this whole situation is a little crazy, but I think sometimes you have to move past fear and logic. You have to do what’s going to make you happy. At the end of the day, you just have to take a risk.”

Leaning into his touch, her eyelids drifted shut as she inhaled a sharp breath before inquiring in a tremulous voice, “How do you know if it’s a risk worth taking?”

He paused, reflecting on his own recent experience with taking chances and how it all unfurled, leading him to that exact moment in time with Zoey tangled up in his embrace. Then, he answered her question with another question. “If you didn’t take the risk, would you regret it?”

With her eyes still closed, she gave a tentative nod. “I...I think so, yeah.”

“Then I think that’s how you know.”

A faint smile appeared on Zoey’s face, her eyelids blinking open as she met his gaze, staring intently at him a moment before she moved to press a kiss to his lips.

When she pulled away, their eyes maintained contact as a stretch of contemplative silence descended over them.

After awhile, Max mumbled, “It’s late. Maybe we should get some rest.”

“Uh huh, uh huh, that’s a thought,” Zoey pursed her lips and gave a few quick, thoughtful nods. “ _Or..._ ” Her eyebrows raised as a wicked smile slinked its way across her face. “We could do something else...” she trailed off suggestively as she teasingly walked her fingers down his chest.

Very much in favor of that idea, Max wrapped a hand around the back of her thigh. “Come here,” he spoke in a gravelly voice, tugging her on top of him as he rolled onto his back. He gave her hips a gentle squeeze before skimming his hands up her sides until they were framing her face, drawing her in to capture her mouth in a languid kiss, their lips and tongues moving against each other in slow, indulgent strokes.

* * *

In the foggy state of consciousness, floating somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, images from last night flooded Max’s mind and he felt a smile pulling at his lips, though his eyes remained fastened shut.

The memory of skin like silk beneath his fingertips, the breathless way Zoey had sighed his name when she came undone, the feeling of her soft lips pressed against the fluttering pulse on his neck.

Still half in a daze, he swung out his arm, expecting to make contact with the solid warmth of Zoey’s body, but instead he ended up with a fistful of sheets that had gone cold, informing Max that her side of the bed had been unoccupied for quite some time.

Feeling like he had just been drenched with a bucket of ice water, his heartbeat lapsed and his eyes flew open as he jerked upright, scanning the space in a panic. He didn’t want to believe that she would have just left without a word, without saying goodbye.

A flicker of movement from the corner of his vision caught his attention and he turned his head, his gaze landing on Zoey as she stepped inside from the patio with her hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing the floral dress from last night, a mug of what he assumed to be coffee clutched in her hand.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake!” She flashed him a bright smile, walking over to the bed. “I have to work soon and I got up early to take a shower because I was feeling...sticky.” A blush colored her cheeks as she briefly ducked her head before looking at him again. “Um, from the champagne,” she explained, using her unoccupied hand to gesture in a circular motion around her chest.

“Right,” Max grinned as the memory of that fun little interlude from the night before resurfaced. “I think that’s definitely my preferred method for drinking champagne now.”

Her blush deepened, creeping up to the tips of her ears as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. “ _Anyway_ , when I got out, you were still sleeping so I decided to sit outside, stare into the abyss, do a little early morning soul-searching.” She shrugged one shoulder, sticking a hand out at him. “You know, _the usual_.” Then, wrapping both hands around the mug, she brought it up to her mouth and took a sip, a sound of contentment bubbling from the back of her throat.

“Of course,” he agreed with a lopsided grin. “Did you come to any profound conclusions?”

“Maybe...” she replied evasively giving him a sly look over the rim of the mug, her nails tapping against the ceramic surface. “Oh, and as you can obviously see, I made coffee.” Zoey lifted the mug up slightly in display. “I literally _cannot_ function until the taste of coffee touches my lips.” Her tone and her expression were grave as she regarded him. “I’ll take it anyway I can have it. Hot, cold, in an IV drip. And I _hate_ needles, but for coffee, I would confront that fear.” Pressing her lips into a firm line, she gave a solemn nod. 

Max laughed, sweeping his fingers through his hair. “That’s good to know.”

Zoey offered him a weak smile before she abruptly averted her gaze, peering down at the hot brown liquid like it held the secrets of the universe.

Inching his way closer, he reached out to grab her hand. “Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb across her palm.

“Hey,” Zoey echoed softly, bending forward until their foreheads were touching, staring down at where their hands were intertwined. “I’m deflecting with humor right now,” she confessed. “Trying to, at any rate. I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat that had formed from her words, Max did his best to keep his voice steady. “I have a simple solution, let’s just skip over that part.”

With watery eyes, Zoey nodded her agreement, squeezing his hand tight before releasing it to tug gently, but insistently on his arm. “Come here.”

Accommodating her request, he scooted over until he joined her on the edge of the bed, carefully removing the mug from her hand and placing it on the end table before slinging his arm around her. She leaned heavily into the embrace, her head finding his shoulder as she rested her hand on his thigh.

For awhile, they stayed just like that. And even though Max was certain all the clocks in his room were digital, he could have sworn he heard the telltale ticking of a clock as it counted out the seconds, a constant reminder that their time together was rapidly drawing to a close.

“I wish I could stay longer, but...work,” she grimaced, her face twisting into one of woeful apology as she extracted herself from his arms, getting onto her feet. “Don’t follow me out, okay? Because if you do, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to leave,” she commanded, her voice wavering at the end.

As far as Max was concerned, he didn’t necessarily think that would be the worst thing in the world and he thought that idea definitely had its merits, but in the spirit of honoring her wish, he stayed put.

Once she had gathered up her few belongings that were scattered about the room, she paused, pivoting to where he was still sitting on the bed. “I’ll be thinking about you, Max Richman.” And then she headed for the door.

“Wait!” he cried out as an afterthought, a trace of desperation in his voice. “Your number, I never—”

“Check your phone!” she called out behind her, cutting him off.

“Oh, and by the way,” Zoey added, bending down to scoop something up off the floor before spinning back around to flash him a wide smile, though her eyes were still shimmering with unshed tears. “I’m keeping this.” She held up his rumpled light blue shirt like it was a trophy.

Chuckling softly, he thought to himself that Zoey was definitely going to be keeping a whole lot more than just his shirt.

* * *

Some several days later, Max was in Mo’s apartment, packing up his stuff to transfer over to his newly acquired apartment.

Sparing a brief glance around, he wondered if he should feel saddened by the fact that his entire life could be encapsulated in just a few boxes. But instead, he felt _excited_ and ready for a fresh start. There was only one thing missing, but he dejectedly mused that there wasn’t much he could do about that.

“So, have you talked to her yet?” Mo asked for what had to be the billionth time by now as he milled about the kitchen, collecting the ingredients to make margaritas.

Huffing out a stream of air through his nose, Max kept his focus on the task at hand, folding a pair of jeans before depositing them in a box on top of the stack of neatly folded clothes.

“ _No_ ,” he begrudgingly admitted when he felt Mo lobbing expectant daggers at him, an obvious indication that he wanted a response and he was getting tired of waiting. “But I’m going to,” he added, picking up a maroon sweater. “Soon.”

“Mhm, _right_ ,” Mo muttered, clearly not believing a word he was saying.

“I am!” he cried out defensively, the sweater fisted tightly in his hand as he swiveled to face Mo. “I just want to make sure I say the right thing.”

Mo rolled his eyes with evident judgement before directing his attention on slicing a lime into wedges. “You’re stalling _and_ you’re backsliding. Don’t let all the growth you’ve done as a person go to waste. Stop being an idiot.” The knife hit the cutting board with a loud thwack. “Text the damn woman!”

Mashing his lips together in indignation, Max continued packing as Mo’s words ran rampant through his mind. As he tossed a brown jacket into the box, he grumbled under his breath that he was _not_ being an idiot.

* * *

Later, back in his empty apartment surrounded by boxes, Max reached the conclusion that he was definitely being an idiot and he heeded Mo’s advice.

Grabbing his phone from his pocket and pulling up his messages, he initiated a new conversation and typed in Zoey’s name, clicking on it when it appeared.

‘ _Hey, sorry it’s taken me so long to reach out, but I just wanted you to know that I made it safely back home. Funny thing is, home doesn’t feel quite the same anymore_...’ 

With his heart hammering in his chest, Max quickly hit send before he lost his nerve, and then he typed out another message, hoping he didn’t sound too pathetic or desperate.

‘ _I wish you were here_.’

His lungs temporarily forgot how to function when he saw the three dots indicating she was typing a response, and then he smiled like the idiot that he was when the message popped onto the screen.

‘ _Finally! I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Don’t you know it’s not polite to keep a lady waiting?_ ’

* * *

A week later, his apartment was still sparsely decorated, but he had gained a black leather couch, a kitchen table and chairs, and a king sized mattress that was eagerly awaiting its bed frame, scheduled to be delivered later that day.

His stomach growled right as there was a knock on the door and he almost laughed out loud at the uncanny timing.

“That was fast,” he muttered under his breath, wondering how Xavier managed to make it there in less than fifteen minutes with his Postmates order from his favorite Thai restaurant.

When he opened the door, however, he did not see someone who bore a striking resemblance to Shamier Anderson standing on the other side, as depicted by the tiny photo on the food delivery app. What he found instead was so much better.

“Zoey? W-what are you doing here?” _In San Francisco, at my apartment?_ Max shook his head, trying to gain clarity and wrap his mind around the fact she was actually _right there_ in the flesh. “What about, I mean, your job? And Hawaii? How did you find me? Um, please come in.” He spouted out in a rush, stepping aside and screwing his mouth shut before it could start another round of rapid-fire questions.

Once the door clicked into place, he was again seized by the temptation to reach for her, to confirm that his brain hadn’t just conjured up the image of her like some cruel trick. But before he had the chance, Zoey walked up to him, a smile hovering on her lips as she pressed her hands to his chest and he could feel the heat radiating from her palms. He blew out a shaky breath, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides while his mind struggled to catch up.

“Well, to answer your last question,” she began, lightly patting her hands against his chest. “I might have employed some _ethically questionable_ tactics to pinpoint your exact location.” She threw him a conspiratorial grin and then slid her palms up his chest until her hands were wrapped around the back of his neck, linking her fingers together as she moved in closer.

Max smiled down at her in wonderment as his hands settled on her waist, still in a mild state of shock at her sudden appearance.

“As for your second question, I quit my job. Wasn’t really what I wanted to be doing, anyway,” she said simply with an air of nonchalance. “Now that I’m back in San Francisco for good, I thought maybe you and I could figure out what happens next. Y’know, together.”

The second those words left her mouth, his breath caught in his throat because _wait_ , was she implying what he thought she was? It seemed almost too good to be true, to be given everything he ever wanted. Was this all just some sort of elaborate prank?

Searching her eyes, he found that they held only sincerity and determination, interspersed with an undercurrent of nerves from the risk she was taking by showing up at his apartment, by jumping off that figurative cliff into an uncertain future.

In an attempt to dissolve her fears, his right hand abandoned its perch on her waist, snaking up to rest between her shoulder blades as he pulled her body flush against his, his lips curving into a smile as he held tightly onto the woman he could see himself falling in love with in the not-so-distant future. Maybe he had already fallen in love with Zoey. Either way, she had captured his heart and he didn’t have any plans to ask her to return it.

Max’s chest filled with warmth when she expelled a soft laugh of relief, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she lifted up on her toes until their mouths were just a hairsbreadth apart.

“And to answer your first question...” Zoey whispered breathlessly, her hands still clasped behind his neck, giving a small shrug of her shoulders as her lips just barely grazed against his own. “I felt like it was time to come home,” she said, cementing her decision with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is chaos, which is why this final update took so long. But it’s done!! Finally!!! Was it too cheesy at the end? Maybe. Do I care? Absolutely not.


End file.
